


Upside Down

by BlindPilot, McSparklez



Category: Muse
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Drama, Drug Use, Explicit Language, Kidnapping, M/M, Mild Gore, mild alcoholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-08 21:15:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 135,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlindPilot/pseuds/BlindPilot, https://archiveofourown.org/users/McSparklez/pseuds/McSparklez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the LJ mkmeme prompt: A rich music collector has almost everything he ever craved for, almost. One special object is still missing in his collection: Matthew Bellamy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yo! So this is project number 2 :) We wanted to do something more... dramatic and somehow it turned into a monster. So expect this to be a bit longer. Million thanks to our beta Alex and D for their help and general amazeball-ness. Enjoy! <3

_14.07.2013, Berlin_

“We love you, Germany!” Matt cheered into the microphone and grinned at the crowd that surrounded the diamond stage almost completely. Chris and Dom joined him there and did just the same: applaud and thank their fans. The venue was a bit unusual and it made the crowd look like one huge cylinder. It was amazing, really.

Matt blew some kisses here and there while Dom and Chris threw drumsticks and plectrums into the waiting hands of some lucky fans who would definitely have a hard time falling asleep that night. Despite the exhaustion.

The adrenaline that was pumping through Matt’s veins would not let him sleep for some time, either. He bowed and soaked up the applause and adoration like a sponge. A sponge clad in red leather, as had already been pointed out, approved and appreciated by Dom. Several times.

The singer did an extra ridiculous bow to the right side of the stage before turning around and sprinting down the catwalk. Then he jumped up the few steps again that led up to the stage and turned around once more (totally _not_ making sure that his two best friends were still following him). He waved and cheered some more, just for good measure, and then ran off the stage closely followed by a jogging Dom and a casually walking Chris.  

“Fucking brilliant!” Matt shouted and nearly punched the wall in pure excitement. Turning around and seeing his friends grinning like loons just confirmed that this gig had been exactly that, fucking brilliant.

“Holy shit, never thought it’d be this amazing!” Dom announced and it earned him a slightly too enthusiastic pat on the shoulder from Chris.

“You didn’t?” The bassist gave them a broad grin. “Should have asked me then.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever, guys. I’m starving,” Matt said and opened the door to the dressing room. He made a beeline for the fruit bowl and grabbed a banana to munch on. Dom went to the fridge and grabbed 2 bottles of beer, and a can of Red Bull for Chris. He threw the Red Bull to the bassist who caught it with a swift move of his right hand, and walked over to Matt to give him his bottle of beer, too afraid to throw it and hit the singer square in the face.

“To another great performance!”

They didn’t talk for a couple of minutes, the only sound in the room Matt munching loudly on yet another piece of fruit. Chris went to the back of the room to grab his jacket and pull out his mobile phone.

“Think I’m gonna call the wife, find out how things are at home,” the bassist said before he headed out of the room to have his phone conversation god knows where. Dom turned to Matt and they both shared a grin. Phone conversations with Kelly usually meant about 20 minutes of alone-time in the dressing room, which translated into 20 minutes of snogging and fantastic handjobs for them.

When the door clicked shut, Matt’s mouth latched automatically onto the drummer’s, hands busy pawing at their clothes while manoeuvring towards the sofa.

“You were so good today,” the blonde whispered between kisses. “So hot. When you moved in the crowd, fuck.”

Matt replied with a moan while his hand massaged the bulge in the blonde’s pants.

“I was so bloody jealous of those people. Seeing you so close, touching you.”

The brunette had to grin at that. “You know,” he started and took Dom’s left hand to move it towards his own erection, “you can touch me whenever you want. Especially down here.”

“Cheeky.” The blonde gave his partner another quick kiss before he dived down and opened the singer’s pants. "But I guess, considering I'm your favourite fuck buddy, and damn good at it, mind you” - Matt was actually able to roll his eyes at that although the blonde had his hand on this dick - “you know I'd go for that part of your body straight away."

He was just about to give fantastic after-gig head when they heard fast approaching footsteps outside and jumped up in panic. Mere seconds later Chris walked back in, grumbling to himself.

“Kelly’s out with a couple of her friends. Girls night or whatever,” he explained and threw himself onto the sofa where Matt and Dom had been making out just a moment ago. He seemed to be way too busy with his frustration to realise that the other two were quite flustered and Matt’s pants were still hanging open. The singer was thankful for that, because he didn’t really want to show his package to Chris. The one time he’d done that had been back in school and he hadn’t been able to sit for two weeks afterwards. Mind you, not because of mindblowing sex, but because Chris had decided to kick his arse pretty hard. He shuddered at the memory and looked over to Dom, who mouthed “Later” at him.  

___

 

_24.07.2013, Oslo_

It was as if the ground was shaking beneath the hundreds of thousands of people’s feet and it was exactly one of those moments when Matt was able to shut off his mind completely. The air was filled with voices singing along to his lyrics. _His lyrics!_ There were times when he still couldn’t quite believe how far they’d come. These people adored him and his bandmates and it was a feeling far beyond amazing.

Matt grinned first at Chris and then at Dom, who got a slightly cheekier one, before he made his way down the short flight of stairs. People were already screaming and shouting to get his attention and he loved every single bit of it. Hands were reaching out to him, to touch him and just feel a little more involved in what was probably one of the biggest tour productions of the year. Matt didn’t want to deny them that and, while still singing and being followed by a cameraman and his security guard, he actually came close to just throwing himself into the crowd. The connection he felt with the fans in these moments was almost transcendental.

Fingers ruffled his hair, hands touched his shoulders and arms, cameras flashed at him and he just kept grinning and singing, feeling on top of the world.

Then it happened. He’d just draped a Norwegian flag over his shoulders when a huge hand wrapped around his upper arm and pulled him to the barrier in one swift motion. Matt was so surprised that he let go of his microphone and it clattered to the floor, filling the venue with a loud rustling. It wasn’t like this hadn’t happened before. No, far from it. Some fans were just very… eager. But this time he wasn’t looking at a flushed and happy girl or a fanboy in a Muse shirt. No, he was staring into the grim face of a broad shouldered man who still had his arm in a determined iron grip. Fuck, he _knew_ that face. He’d seen it before, at other recent concerts. The guy never moved or sang along to any song. The moment in which the guy bored his eyes into Matt’s lasted only for a second or two, then his security had already pulled him free again and the cameraman pressed the microphone back into his hand. Matt took a few fast steps away from that man, completely creeped out but dead set on composing himself as fast as possible. He was a professional after all.

Matt glanced up and back at his bandmates who were still playing as if nothing had happened. Well, they were all professionals. But he was sure they’d noticed that something hadn’t been right. The singer went on with shaking hands but couldn’t really stop himself from keeping a certain distance to the barrier after that, much to the disappointment of the still screaming fans.

It took him a few more songs until he was completely focused on the show again. Only when he was seated behind his piano and started playing the first notes of Survival, could he really let himself be consumed by the music and the buzzing of the crowd again.

___

 

_27.07.2013, Helsinki_

Oh fuck, their last Europe gig had been… fantastic! Yes, there was no other word to describe it, at least in Matt’s mind. Although he had a very broad variety of adjectives in his mental dictionary. The crowd had been amazing (ah, another adjective) and the singer had felt like he could power a spaceship off the energy. Oh yes, it had been a fucking great idea to change the setlist last minute and put Yes Please and Agitated on it. It had been a little like the old days right there. Perfect. Enormous. That’s exactly what Matt felt like in that very moment. And by the looks of Dom and Chris who both just couldn’t stay still for a single second because they were so fueled up, they felt exactly the same.

Now they were on their way back to the hotel to get a good night’s rest and then finally head home for a couple of days. The singer couldn’t deny that he was looking forward to London and some quietness. He loved touring, but he needed these days off so he could remove himself from the world and enjoy just… being. He also planned on coming up with chords for the new album. Being Matt Bellamy, he already had a million ideas in his head, he just needed to sit down, organise his thoughts and write them down.

“Matt, fancy a drink? Tom and I just decided to make a minor detour to the hotel bar,” Dom winked at him.

“When did you two talk about that?” Matt asked with a small smile on his lips. Yes, he was exhausted. No, he could never say no to a drink with his friends. Not when he was this pumped up at the same time.

Dom waved his mobile around to indicate some sort of text message conversation. “I bet Morgan’s in, too.”

“Morgan is always in for a drink,” the singer chuckled cheerfully and then nodded. “Yes, I do fancy a drink.”

When the car turned around the corner he could already see fans waiting in front of the hotel. Where they always got the address from he’d never know, maybe they’d made a pact with the devil? He turned to Dom who smiled at him and nodded.

Their cars stopped and all five of them got out to greet the more than excited fans. As much as he wanted to sleep and have some quiet hours, he couldn’t and wouldn’t ignore these people. They were the reason that the band was so successful, they adored the 3 losers from Devon so much, just for making music. They loved the band. And he loved them, with his whole heart.

Dom was already swarmed by the masses, a big smile plastered to his face while the flashes of dozens of cameras went off. Of course that fucker enjoyed being the centre of attention. Matt turned to Chris to see the bassist deep in conversation with a young man, apparently talking about the latest game of his favourite football club. Judging by the excessive amount of hand gestures they weren’t too pleased with the club’s performance.

He turned his attention back to the fans and signed an Origin of Symmetry CD for a red-headed girl before she asked for a picture with him. From his left he could make out another fan trying to take a picture of his bum, so he wiggled it for extra effect and couldn’t hide his grin when he heard a loud squeal behind himself. Another fan assaulted him and pressed herself into his side, Matt hugged her and smiled into the camera before he signed yet another concert ticket.

He was just about to turn to his bandmates again when he saw a tall figure standing at the side, slightly hidden by a car. Matt froze on the spot; it was the same creepy man that had pulled him to the barrier at the gig in Oslo. He shuddered involuntarily, the icy glare made him feel more uncomfortable than Tom prancing around naked in their shared flat a couple of years ago. Now, that was a horrible sight.

The unknown man caught his gaze and they stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, until he made a step towards Matt. Before the bad feeling in Matt’s stomach could even form, another 2 girls managed to ambush him and pull him out of his thoughts. Another photo, another item signed, and when the brunette looked up again the mysterious man was gone without a trace. He definitely needed that drink tonight.

___

“But Dom, I’m telling you he’s following me!”

“So what? A lot of people are. That’s one of the many reasons why they’re called fans.”

Chris had already called it a night when they’d arrived back at the hotel, while Dom, Tom, Matt and Morgan had chosen to spend some time at the bar. Now Matt and Dom were on their way back to their rooms and Matt just wouldn’t shut up about that creepy guy.

Yes, Dom had seen what had happened in Oslo. Yes, he had been worried because it was always a little dangerous to get so close to the barrier. Of course the majority of their fans was cool (in a way) and would never deliberately hurt any of them. But sometimes there were idiots out there, too.

What Dom had not seen was that the guy had been waiting at the hotel, too. Very much to Matt’s bad luck, he’d been the only one of them to have actually seen him there.

“I don’t think he even is a fan. At least it really didn’t feel like it,” Matt mumbled more to himself.

 _God no, not the talking to himself while in company thing. No good had ever come of that_ , Dom thought in mild alarm.

“Matt, come on,” he crooned as the singer stopped in front of his hotel room and started fumbling for his key card. “I bet you’re getting worked up over nothing here. He’s just some random guy you’ll probably never see again. Forget him.”

Oh, Matt wished he could do that. He really did. But the thing was… that was not going to happen. Not now when his slight paranoia had kicked in again.

“Don’t you think it could just be the tour stress? I mean, it happens. Even with the occasional days off it can get to you. How’ve you been sleeping these past weeks?”

Dom just wouldn’t let it go.

“Fine. And you know that,” Matt huffed and kicked the door open. “It’s not the stress. I know he was there. You should’ve seen the way he looked at me.”

Dom followed him into the room and put his hands on the singer’s shoulders, starting a gentle massage. Matt sighed, partly in annoyance and partly in pleasure.

“One should think that you’ve gotten used to the way people tend to look at you by now. You _are_ sexy, y’know?”

“That’s not what I mean and you damn well know it,” Matt muttered but his eyes fell shut at the tender but insistent pressure Dom’s digits applied to the knots in his shoulders and neck.

“Want me to alleviate the stress on you?” Dom asked, leaning around Matt and winking at him suggestively.

The brunette rolled his eyes and turned around, the blonde’s hands never leaving his shoulders.

“No Dom, really. I’m not in the mood. I’m exhausted and a little pissed and just wanna go to bed.”

Dom raised an eyebrow at him. “You forgot cranky.”

“No, I definitely didn’t.” Matt ground his teeth. Yep, he was definitely cranky.

“Left it out on purpose then,” Dom sighed. “Look, I can stay with you if want.”

“And why exactly would I want that? I thought I’d made it clear that there’ll be no shagging tonight. No cuddling, no let-me-kiss-it-better shit.”

Now it was the drummer’s turn to roll his eyes. “We’re still friends, though. I just… don’t want you to get all upset because of this, s’all.”

“I’m not upset. I’m tired. So thanks, but no thanks.” Matt put his key card back into his pocket and turned away from his friend. He was clearly pissed because neither Dom nor Chris, Tom or Morgan were willing to take his ‘paranoia’ seriously. And he didn’t want to be mocked about it. Or worse, pitied.

“Well then, be an arse about it,” Dom finally huffed, turned on his heels and pulled the door shut behind him.

Matt let out a stretched sigh and let himself fall bum-first onto the sofa in the middle of the room. Their little fights were nothing he really worried about, they’d make up in the morning anyway. They’d probably not even mention it again.

No, Matt was worried by something else entirely. And he honest to God wished that it was just his paranoia. Because that he could handle.

___

 

_28.07.2013, Helsinki_

The black Mercedes pulled up in front of the airport and Matt sighed a little as he picked up his bag and got out of the car. Chris, Dom and Tom were already waiting for him and, much to everybody’s surprise, no fans were around. Well, weird but somehow refreshing. Maybe, just maybe it was because Dominic Anderson had changed their flight last minute. Morgan got out of the car after him and smiled at the others as they made their way to the entrance.

“Hi there,” Chris gave them a small wave and looked at Matt suspiciously. “You alright, mate?”

Granted, Matt looked a little pale and the shadows under his eyes were slightly darker than usual. But that was just because his night had been relatively short due to the fact that he had been expecting a knock at his door every minute. No knock had come, though. None at all.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Didn’t sleep too well, s’all”, he replied and shouldered his bag.

“Sure?” Dom enquired and Matt simply nodded.

“Well then, I think Dom A is already in. Best not keep him waiting,” Tom said and so they made their way into the airport hall.

Dom A was waiting in the departure lounge, just as Tom had expected and now they all sat down. Except for Morgan who gave his bag to Dom and ruffled his hair a little.

“I’m gonna get some coffee. Anyone else want one?”

“Yes, please.” Chris nodded his head enthusiastically and Dom, Tom and Dom A followed suit.

“Gonna help you carry then,” Matt said and got up again. “Might just as well stretch my legs a bit before the flight.”

Dom’s eyes followed them (especially Matt, though) as the two made their way through the slowly filling hall. It was still pretty early and most people were probably still in bed. Matt envied them.

“Oh look, they’ve got The Guardian. Wait a sec, I’m just gonna get one,” Morgan said as they went past a news stand.

The singer sighed and nodded. It was not like his friends were annoying him or anything. He was just still so fucking exhausted and only slightly edgy and tried not to show it too much. Obviously that wasn’t something too easy to achieve, especially for an expressive person like him. Dom was surely the first to notice it if he kept on twitching and being quiet like he had done all morning.

“Morgan, hurry,” he called out for his friend.

“Calm down, it’s not like the coffee’s gonna get cold before they brew it. And that’s what I’m expecting, fresh coffee. I dare them to give us cold ones. Like that time in France. Still can’t believe it.” The blond head disappeared behind the shelves filled with newspapers just as quickly as it had popped up.

Matt heaved a deep sigh and turned around, shifting from one foot to the other and watching the few people that went by. A group of five travellers just entered the hall. Well, maybe they were just picking someone up. But they didn’t look like it. Matt didn’t know. And how could he? He wasn’t Sherlock Holmes.

His mind kept rambling on like that for a few minutes until something peculiar caught his eye. There was someone standing near the entrance. A tall, slightly bulky figure. His heart skipped a beat when he remembered that guy at the barrier and in front of the hotel. Could it be him? No, too much of a coincidence. The singer closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Hey, you alright?” Morgan was suddenly standing beside him and Matt cursed himself for being that easy to creep up on.

“Yeah, yeah… I’m fine,” Matt mumbled and looked back to the entrance. The figure was gone. Was it just his imagination playing tricks on him? Maybe he was stressed out and slightly… well, paranoid (he’d never deny the latter). Maybe the others were right after all.

“You sure?” Morgan looked at him, slightly worried.

“For heaven’s-” the brunette started but let out yet another sigh to try and compose himself. “Yes. Yes, I’m sure. Really. Fine.”

He gesticulated around in his typical sweeping movements just to indicate that he was indeed fine. Which he wasn’t. But it was all about the show, wasn’t it?

Morgan spared him another sceptical look, shrugged a little and then led the way to a tiny bakery. All the while he kept talking about how successful the first leg of the tour had been and how he was looking forward to playing in Japan. Matt didn’t really listen. He was mostly occupied with not looking around and instead glared at the floor.

A few minutes later they made their way back to the others, laden with two paper trays of coffee cups. He handed Dom and Chris their cups before he moved to the back of the waiting area, his back to the wall. He felt safer knowing no one could creep up on him, no matter how silly that sounded.

Of course the others noticed that Matt had put a few seats between them but they didn’t really dare to ask why. Dom kind of had a feeling he knew what was going on. The thing with a brooding Matt, though, was that you better not interrupted him. Sometimes it was a good thing to pull him out of his thoughts because he was very good at letting himself being swallowed up by them. But in moments like this when everyone and especially he was tired and they still had a long distance ahead of them… well, it was safer for everyone to just leave him be. So Dom just kept nipping at his coffee and eventually let himself be sucked into Tom and Morgan’s conversation.

Matt balanced his paper cup on his knee while still pointedly trying _not_ to scan the vicinity. Obviously that didn’t work out too well. The harder he tried to avoid it, the faster his eyes darted around and annoyed him to no end. He tried to focus on the conversation of his mates to distract him and, much to his own surprise, it worked. At least until a fleeting shadow at the corner of his eyes caught his attention and he straightened up in the uncomfortable plastic chair. What the hell? Where did these extreme reactions suddenly come from? Was he seeing things were there were none? It wasn’t unlike Matt to get a little worked up over nothing, he knew that just as well as his friends. But he wasn’t sure this was nothing.

He closed his eyes for a second to calm down and set his heartbeat at ease again. This was definitely getting out of hand. God, what was wrong with him these days? The tour had been amazing so far. Why did one little incident with a creepy fan - and yes, by now he had started to believe Dom’s words - get him this agitated?

The singer went on questioning his sanity and general perception of the world until someone sat down a few rows away, clearly fixating him with an intense and definitely hostile glare. Shit, that was him. Matt’s heart rate went through the roof from one second to the next and his vision blurred a little. Was he really getting nervous to the point of dizziness because of this guy? Matt’s fingers clamped the edge of his chair vigorously and he tried to keep his breathing in check without much success.

 _Jesus fucking Christ, Bellamy! You’re going to kill yourself if you keep this shit up_ , he mentally scolded himself.

The fact that it was the same guy remained, though. There was only one way to resolve his problem. He needed to call the guy on his weird behaviour and his apparent Bellamy-stalking habit. In other words, he had to face his paranoia. Now.

Matt took a deep breath and got up again. It actually baffled him a bit how steady his legs were as he marched to the end of their row of seats. He felt the eyes of his mates follow his every step and boring into his back. They didn’t speak up, though. Maybe they were just curious about what he up to.

“Hey there! You,” Matt said as he reached the guy, sounding a lot more confident than he felt. That guy was easily twice his size and weight. “What… what are you following me for?” His voice sounded a little squeaky and he hated himself for it. "What do you want from me?"

When the man didn't give him an explanation, and only stared at him, Matt flipped. He grabbed the guy’s coat collar and hauled him up (never underestimate the power of a stressed Bellamy).

"I swear, if you keep this shit up I’m gonna-” but he was cut short and the guy never got to know what Matt was going to do because Chris had pulled him away with an iron grip on his shoulders.

“Sorry, mate. Sorry, he didn’t mean it.” Chris shot the guy an apologetic glance and before Matt could do anything he was dragged away again. When they were out of earshot, he turned towards the singer with a disbelieving look on his face.

“What the hell, Matt? Are you out of your mind?”

Matt tore himself away from Chris and positively glared at his bandmate. “That’s him, Chris!” He pointed his finger in the general direction but when his eyes landed on the row, the guy was gone. The bassist seemed to have noticed the same and crossed his arms over his chest. “I swear it was the guy from Oslo! He’s following me!” Once again he could feel the eyes of his other mates burning holes into the back of his head.

“Seriously, Matt? Seriously? You think you can just walk up to some random guy and pull shit like that? Especially when he looks like he could handle you single-handedly? Are you fucking crazy?” Oh yes, Chris was really pissed. And you do not want to be in a situation where you have to deal with a pissed Chris.

“Yes, seriously!” Matt spat back. Obviously he didn’t care much about common knowledge. “And I can’t believe that no one, not even my best friends, wants to believe me!”

“Guys, calm down.” Dom A had come over and tried to shush them. “Look, we do not need to get into public fights, okay?”

“Whatever,” Matt huffed, turned on his heels and walked back to where the others were still sitting, eyes filled with utter shock at the singer’s outburst. He ignored them.

“That’s gonna be a damn fine flight,” Dom A sighed and looked up at Chris whose expression had changed from rage to worry in less than a second.

“Oh yeah, really looking forward to it.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

_28.07.2013 - Flight from Helsinki Vantaa to London Heathrow_

Contrary to what everyone had expected, their flight was quite uneventful. Even though they had booked their seats in the first class of a normal passenger jetliner (they still didn’t feel too comfortable with booking a private jet just for them), none of the other passengers had bothered them. Maybe no one had recognised them for a change. Anyway, Chris had fallen asleep halfway through while Dom A, Tom and Morgan had decided to play a round of poker (totally _not_ betting on who pay the next rounds when they met up for a drink next time).

Dom sat next to Matt, a glass of apple juice in his hand, and flicked through a magazine he had nicked from another seat. It was one of these typical women’s magazines full of gossip, trends and recipes, and Dom made sure to hide it well so as to not be the joke of the hour… again. They teased him endlessly about his choice of reading material and he didn’t exactly get why. So he liked being up to date on who was dating who and he definitely needed to know if animal print was still trendy (and he hoped to god it would never go out of fashion). And let’s not mention that all of them enjoyed the dinners he cooked for them, the recipes being from those “girly magazines” half of the time, anyway.

The drummer glanced around the cabin for a moment before his eyes fell on Matt. The singer was sitting to his right at the window, watching the clouds outside. He hadn’t moved since he had checked who was on board with them. Dom wondered if he’d expected the man Matt had attacked earlier to be on the same flight with them or if he’d been looking for someone else. The blonde worried, though. Matt had been so nervous for the past days, telling them how he was being followed and Dom could admit that it was beginning to grate on his nerves. Of course he tried to take his bandmate seriously, he always did, but there was no proof that there was indeed someone stalking them. Maybe Matt had seen the same man during a gig, the possibility was there. But Dom was sure there had been no one at the hotel and he’d never seen the man at the gig or the hotel (Chris and the others would attest to that). The next few days off would do Matt good, he was sure. Maybe they could get a shag or two in before they took off to Asia, as well.

He watched Matt for a few more minutes. The brunette was probably still cross with them, so he tried to avoid every form of interaction, just to spite them. That was nothing new, Matt always did that. But it didn’t mean Dom would accept it so easily. Being friends for 20 years had taught him not to put up with every tantrum Matt Bellamy would throw.

“Alright?” He asked when he nudged the singer’s side. Matt only pushed his hand away.

When no further reaction came, Dom went to dig through his bag and retrieved a bag of gummy bears. He pushed it into Matt’s hands wordlessly because he’d never seen gummy bears defeating their purpose. Not with Matt anyway.

The brunette looked at the pack curiously before he turned his eyes to Dom.

“Alright?” the blonde asked again and this time, Matt shrugged at him.

“Just tired, I guess.”

“Wanna talk about what happened in the waiting hall earlier?”

Matt frowned. “No, I’d rather not. I’m kinda done talking about it to you guys.”

“Come on, don’t be like that.” Dom sighed.

“It’s just,” the singer stuffed two gummy bears into his mouth, “you guys don’t believe me anyway and maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m just imagining all of this and get worked up over nothing. But I swear to you, that man has been following us for a couple of weeks.”

“But there’s nothing new about that, Matt. People follow us around. You know that.” When the singer didn’t say anything, Dom added, “Get some rest at home, I won’t bother you unless you want me to. You’ll be as good as new in no time and we’ll be laughing about it in one of these super shady places that serve some crazy shit topped with insects or something once the tour has started again.”

___

 

_03.08.2013 - London_

Dom had left him to his own devices, like he had promised. And Matt didn’t feel like ringing him up, not even for some take-away and the promise of mind blowing sex. No, Matt wanted to be left alone for a bit. The solitude had helped clear his mind, but he still felt a bit exhausted. It didn’t help that his insomnia had struck back vengefully. While his body demanded rest, his mind was a completely different matter. It was running on maximum speed. Thoughts and ideas chased each other as if they were competing for the pole position in Matt’s brain. Bits and pieces of unfinished music kept floating in and out of his consciousness and the constant _thinking_ was enough to tire his body further.

On this particular evening he considered digging out his remaining Xanax stocks. He hadn’t used the drug for quite some time because his insomnia had gotten way better, but now... There really was no use in going to bed although it was past 11pm. He wouldn’t be able to stop his mind from making up scenarios that wouldn’t even take place in a sleeping person’s dreams. For him this was the norm and he wished he could just switch it off sometimes.

Matt poured himself a glass of tap water and sighed. He still needed to ring Chris as well and figure out a schedule for tomorrow’s meeting. They were supposed to meet up in a small café and do some brainstorming concerning the anniversary tour. He didn’t really feel like going out at the moment, but he couldn’t let his friends down with this, especially not because he was the one who played the biggest role when it came to stage designs and setlists. Also, it wasn’t their fault he couldn’t sleep and thus was cranky as hell. He’d just have to restrain himself a bit tomorrow and don’t act like a complete tit. He could do it. Maybe.

After he had changed into his sleeping clothes - a simple Queen t-shirt he’d nicked from Dom at some point, and black boxers - he looked for his mobile phone. Where the fuck had he put it? He went through each and every room and went so far as to checking under the table and in the small cupboard under the kitchen sink until he remembered he’d played some Sudoku on it before he went to sleep (read: tried to sleep) last night. Going back into his bedroom, he found the device buried under his pillow fort (yes, he needed these 15 pillows, thank you very much) and it indicated that Chris had already tried to contact him. He lay down and quickly dialed the bassist’s number.

“About time you called, mate, I was about to send The Hounds after you,” Chris greeted him.

“Yeah, sorry. I was a bit… busy.”

“Insomnia bothering you again?”

“How did you know?” Matt asked.

The bassist chuckled. “You sound tired, s’all.”

It amazed him to no end how perceptive Chris could be. It wasn’t like he expected his friend to go through life with blinds over his eyes, but he didn’t think he was _that_ transparent. Then again, they’d known each other for more than 20 years now.

“Fair enough. About tomorrow, what time are we gonna meet?”

“About 10,” Chris replied. “Don’t be late again or Dom will have your head.”

Matt laughed. “Pfft, as if. He couldn’t even be mad at Ernie when he threw up all over his favourite leopard printed shirt.”

“Well,” Chris began and laughed with his bandmate. “Ernie isn’t a shitface like you.”

“Oi!”

“Anyway, I’ve gotta go. The kids demand my presence for some board game. I’ll see you tomorrow, yes?”

“Yeah. Night, Chris.”

“Night, Matt.”

The singer put his phone back under his pillow and turned on his back to stare at the ceiling. He really could do with some sleep right now. He got up again and walked back into the kitchen.

The Xanax idea didn’t sound too appealing anymore when he looked at the expiry date of the pack he’d stored in the back of his wall-cupboard above the sink. Well then, the only other way Matt knew was sure would alleviate the mental tension was currently sitting in his living room. Currently meaning that he’d only recently managed to talk his friends into helping him move it from his music room to its new place. In a frenzy of activity caused by the need to get his mind off the returning insomnia, he’d decided to renovate said music room. And because Matt hated nothing more than paint on the ebony wood of his beloved Kawai, the others had been called in with the promise of a barbecue and beer. What Matt had forgotten to mention was that they would’ve had to bring the food and drinks themselves. So after some loud arguments and a half-arsed attempt at choking Matt with the piano lid, they’d surrendered and eventually forced their “host” to at least order pizza in the end.

So… where was he going with theses thoughts again? Ah, yes. The piano.

Matt made his way out of the kitchen and into the living room. The grand black one sat in the middle of it so it could be marveled at from all sides. The singer put his glass down next to the piano bench and sat down, reaching for the notepad and pen lying on the lid. He flicked through it, added some notes and thoughts here and there and finally put it back down. Then, without much thinking, he pressed a random key and let it flow from there. Pretty soon the room was filled with a rich melody as Matt’s fingers danced back and forth across the keyboard in graceful motions. His eyes were closed and he let himself become completely engrossed with his own composition. The best thing, though, that it freed his mind from any disturbing thoughts. He felt more relaxed and the exhaustion diminished gradually.

Due to the degree of his absorption he didn’t hear the quiet rattle at first. It was only when he stopped to write down a few more ideas and changes to his newest piece that his head snapped up at the sound. He let his eyes scan the room but couldn’t find the source. With a slow shrug he dismissed it. Maybe he’d just forgotten to close a window or something. With a slight shake of his head he turned back to his drug of choice and started playing again.

A few minutes went by in which he just sat there and poured the tremors of his mind into something almost tangible. Notes and chords wavered through the air like smoke and filled Matt’s head with blissful peace. That’s how it worked for him, like a black box. He put his emotions into the music, it did something to them he couldn’t describe even if his life depended on it, and what came out was some sort of peace of mind. Well, there had been times when it hadn’t quite worked out like that because, obviously, music couldn’t be the cure to everything. But it helped nonetheless.

He was just contemplating the nature of music and its almost scary influence on his various moods when another, louder noise pulled him out of his thoughts abruptly. He screwed up his eyes when his fingers froze on the keys. That had definitely not been the rattle of a window. Matt got up slowly as his eyes darted around the room in vigilance. There was nothing out of the ordinary to be seen, at least from where he was hovering by the entry to the hallway. Then the loud bang of a door slamming shut made him spin around and his heart jumped into his throat. One quick look was enough to discern the terrace door as the source of the noise. It sprung open again as the wind pushed heavily against the glass. Matt’s breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t unlocked that door all day, of that much he was sure.

What the fuck was going on?

The singer had to circle the piano as he approached the door guardedly. The lock was still intact but the key was gone and an uneasy feeling roiled and then settled in his stomach as he pushed the door close again. He noticed some dry dirt on the dark parquet floor where someone must have entered the house. Motherfucking shit!

For some reason, unknown even to himself, he kneeled down to examine the fractious outlines of the footprint instead of bolting out into the garden and making a run for it. Because this was definitely not a good sign. He dragged the pad of his index finger through the dirt and looked at it impassively. His heart rate quickly picked up as his senses seemed to lose their brain connection and all he could do was shudder in horrified anticipation. His whole body froze when the wooden floor creaked behind him and announced the presence of an intruder. For one second the desperate hope that it was just Dom who’d had enough of his silence and came to check on him passed through his otherwise paralysed brain.

“Good evening, Matthew,” a hiss cut the thick silence. “You know, you could’ve made this a lot easier for the both of us if you’d just gone to bed like every normal person. It’s unlikely for you to be able to put up a real fight anyway. Considering your state of exhaustion, I mean.”

Acting completely on instinct he slowly looked up and into the glassdoor’s mirror image of the room behind him. The sight horrified him to no end. The tall, bulky silhouette definitely belonged to the guy he’d already resigned thinking about as anything more than a figment of his overactive imagination. Another creak and the movement behind him made his body jolt back into action and he jumped to his feet in a spin that let him face the intruder.

“Who the fuck are you and what do you want from me?” The words came out in a bizarre, high-pitched mixture of uncoiling fear and his trademark stubbornness.

“What do you care? It’s too late for an escape anyway.”

“No, it’s not,” Matt spat almost challengingly.

With that he bolted away from the door and into the dining area of the spacey room. He felt a little more confident when he’d at least put the broad table between them. Then he tried to make his brain work again. Emergency mode was exactly what he needed right now. No complicated thoughts, just the basics required for turning tail and fleeing. He tried to estimate the time he’d need to make a run for the front door. That was definitely his best option because there’d probably still be people out in the street, witnesses to his predicament and hopefully someone with a phone to call the police.

Matt didn’t know whether the guy was armed but the slight bulge at his ankle suggested that he at least carried a knife or something of the kind. There were vases on the sideboards in the hallway. If he was fast enough he could probably get hold of one and use it as a makeshift weapon.

“Come on, Matthew, spare us both the effort.” The guy positively _sneered_ at him, getting closer to the edge of the table with every step.

Matt realised in alarm that if he wanted to act at all, this was his last chance. Without much thinking he made a grab for the closest chair and threw it into the intruders path, effectively blocking his way as he made a run for the front door. Behind him he could hear a loud thud and muffled grunts of pain. Had he really knocked the guy out successfully? Oh God, he hoped so.

Abandoning the thought of fighting back in favour of a quick escape he closed his hand around the front door’s handle, pushed it down hard and yanked at it in a fruitless effort. The door was bolted and the lock unyielding to his desperation. Shitshitshit!

“Missing something?”

Matt spun around again and saw the guy approaching almost languidly and apparently unaffected by his temporary defeat-by-chair. His index finger looped through the ring of a keychain. _His_ keychain, Matt realised in utter horror. The guy jangled the keys around in abrasive mockery of the smaller man before he shoved them into his pocket, not leaving any doubt about his intentions.

The singer tried to keep his breathing under control but it got more frantic by the minute and his head began to spin a little. The slight dizziness blurred the edges of his vision and the fear of a panic attack started to unfold, unfortunately just worsening his state.

“I’m done with your shit. You can either stop playing or I’ll make you wish you’d never started it in the first place. Which is it going to be, Matthew? The easy or the hard way?”

“What… I’m not playing! What the fuck? What do you even want from me?”

The guy actually rolled his eyes at that and tutted, looking a bit weary but no less determined for it.

“Aw Matthew… and here I was thinking you’d figured it out weeks ago. I might have overestimated your intellect.”

“I… I was right all along, wasn’t I? You fucking stalked me!”

“I merely observed. But yes, my actions might be put under that label by some people.”

“But who the fuck are you? And what do you want?”

“Well, rest assured, I do not want your money or any of your petty belongings. No wait, we’ll actually need to take a few things with us. But that shouldn’t concern you. I’ll do the packing.”

How he did it Matt didn’t know, but the guy actually managed to smile at him while literally oozing threat. The singer knew that on his part it’d been just a useless attempt at stalling the inevitable. Was this really how everything was going to end? The end of Matthew Bellamy? He breathed in deep and braced himself. One thing was sure, he was not going down without a fight.

The taller man slowly closed in on him but Matt already had his eye on an escape route. He could be fast when it counted. Plus, he was tiny in comparison to his opponent and could probably use that to his advantage. Now everything was down to the timing. It needed to be perfect.

When the guy was only an arm’s length away Matt ducked and made a run for it, his attacker being unable to catch the sudden movement. He must have been able to grab onto the singer’s necklace, though, because he felt the pressure of the chain being pulled around his neck before it snapped and clattered to the floor. His survival instinct outweighed the pang of regret at the loss of his most precious jewelry, though. When he’d almost made it back to the living room door, his left foot slipped under the heavy carpet and he stumbled for an awful second before falling flat on his face. Fucking big, treacherous feet!  

He didn’t even have time to get up again as the guy was already onto him, pressing his knee between the singer’s shoulderblades. He lashed out and managed to kick the guy’s other foot off the ground, making him tumble and slip off of him. Matt rolled on his back and made a grab for the porcelain umbrella stand, by far one of the ugliest items he owned. Taking a big swing he smashed it over the guy’s shoulder, missing his head only by mere inches. At least it granted him a few more moments to get to his feet again.

Too late, though, because the taller man was already on his feet, too. Matt didn’t even have time to think before he was rammed into the nearest wall, picture frames crashing to pieces on the floor. His head smashed painfully into the wall and he had to blink a few times. One hand was closing around his throat, applying enough pressure to hold him in place but not to choke him. This guy definitely wanted him alive.

The singer’s arms flailed uselessly at his sides. When his fingers hit a vase on the sideboard next to him, though, he seized the opportunity and closed them around its rim. This time he made sure not to miss the guy’s head and the impact of the heavy object made his opponent stumble in slight disorientation.

Matt was able to slip out of the loosened grip, but didn’t get too far as a strong arm tackled him from behind. This time he wasn’t as lucky as before and he hit his head on the wooden sideboard. A painful pang soared through his head and down his neck as his vision went blurry again. Very much to Matt’s luck the taller man had also stumbled but now had an iron grip on his ankle. He kicked blindly behind himself and managed to plant his foot in the man’s face. A pained howl filled the hallway and although Matt couldn’t see straight, he grasped the opportunity and crawled a few feet away. Rubbing his hand over his face to make his eyes focus again, he tried to get to his feet. He put a hand to the wall to support his weight, leaving dark red smudges on the wallpaper, and stumbled over to the guest bathroom on shaky legs.

He slammed the white door shut as quickly as he could and locked it. Shit, maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to lock himself up in a bathroom with no window to escape through. But at least he had managed to buy himself more time. With his back resting against the tile walls and breathing heavily, Matt tried to wrap his head around what was going on. His head was pounding furiously and he carefully touched his forehead only to flinch back from his own fingers. They came away bloody. Shit. Matt scrambled off the floor, pulling himself upright by the sink. The mirror revealed what Matt hadn’t been able to see earlier; a long but none too deep slash from his forehead to his right temple. Relentless rivulets of blood trickled down between his eyes and over his cheekbone. It looked worse than it felt. That was at least something. Or so he hoped.

The loud bangs on the door pulled him out of his contemplation and reminded him that it was not the time to think about this. Apparently his attacker had recovered and the small break - because what more could it have been under these circumstances? - was over. It was only a matter of time until the door would give way considering the guy’s strength and body mass. _Think, think, think_ , he urged himself.

In a sudden rush of desperation he reached for the pen that was lying on the small cabinet alongside the crossword puzzle book for bored guests. Shit, what could help him? He needed to leave the others a message as long as he was still able to. The pounding on the door increased and Matt could already hear the hinges groan under the vicious impacts.

It’s him! he scribbled down hastily at the edge of the topmost crossword, leaving messy, blood-red fingerprints on the white material. He scratched a deep line into the paper as the door flew open with a loud bang and his whole body jerked in shock.

“I’ve had enough of this, you bloody bastard,” the man growled and effectively blocked the door with his broad frame.

Matt swallowed hard and tried to retreat into the furthest corner of the room. Neither fight nor flight was an option anymore. The room was too small to run past again and a frightening part of him had already accepted his fate. What exactly this fate implied, he didn’t know. Usually he was a fighter, not one to surrender easily. But fear immobilised him and it felt like his blood was frozen cold in his veins. His head pounded madly and he felt more dizzy by the minute. Maybe he had underestimated the gash on his forehead.

The guy pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket and took a small bottle out of the other. Chloroform. Matt was sure of that. Absurdly, the memory of Dom saying something along the lines of “if you don’t shut the fuck up immediately I’m gonna chloroform you to silence” sprung to his mind. He wished Dom was here. Or Chris. Or anyone to help him. As the guy closed the remaining distance with a few swift steps, grabbed him by the neck viciously while he made some last, weak efforts at kicking at him, and put the chloroform soaked cloth over his mouth and nose, his last thoughts went out to his best friends. A shudder went through his body as he eventually had to cave in and draw a breath. Then everything went black.

 


	3. Chapter 3

_04.08.2013 - London_

Dom was pissed, there was no other way to say it. It was already half past 11 and Matt still hadn’t shown up. He put the menu away and stared angrily at his mobile phone. Chris had called earlier to say he was late because he needed to drive Ava to a friend’s birthday party, but Matt didn’t even have the courtesy of sending a fucking text message. And _of course_ he didn’t pick up his phone either, the wanker was probably still fast asleep while they waited for His Majesty to show up. It wasn’t the first time that Matt had forgotten about one of their lunch meetings, but considering how often Matt had reminded every single one of them just how important it was to figure out certain things for the 20th anniversary tour as early as possible, he had expected Matt to be the first one to arrive here and wait for them with an impressively angry glare.

Dom put his phone back into his trouser pocket and looked around the café. It was a small one, rather unknown as well. Why, he had no idea, because the food was amazing and the people were the nicest he’d ever met. The owner, Mr. Smith, always made sure they could eat without interruptions from any fan or reporter. He didn’t even bother to give any juicy details to said reporters, no matter how much money they offered him. Dom admired that. It wasn’t like they lived a scandalous life, but he was sure that Mr. Smith could get a pretty penny out of it if he really wanted. They always made sure they tipped generously.

His phone vibrated and Dom pulled it out again.

_Ava taken care of. Matt still not there with you guys? C_

The drummer thumbed a quick reply that, no, Matt _still_ wasn’t with them and that he hoped Chris kicked the singer’s arse as hard as he could. _That would serve him right,_ he thought.

_K, will do. Cu then. C_

Dom left his phone lying on the table this time. He then went back to the menu to study it vigorously. He knew it by heart nowadays, but it was better than staring at his phone and waiting for a text or call from Matt. Well, and insulting the brunette in his head.

“So,” Tom began to break the silence that had settled over them pretty quickly once they’d realised they’d be waiting for quite some time. “I’ve added the new colours for Jarvis to the Panic Station video. Do you want to use that from next gig on or wanna wait a bit? Also, I’ve got an idea for the Fury setup, I think it would look pretty cool if we…”

While Tom prattled on, Dom had already zoned out, checking his phone again. He quickly typed in Matt’s number and waited for his bandmate to pick up. It rang and rang until it finally clicked to the answerphone again.

“For fuck’s sake, Matt,” Dom shouted into his phone, “Where the fuck are you? I’m gonna kill you when you show up. You better have a good excuse.”

“Still not picking up?” Morgan asked the blonde when he put his phone away again.

“Nope. The princess is probably still asleep.”

Morgan sighed and turned back to Tom and Dom A who were talking about some improvements concerning the pyramid on stage.

Their waitress arrived and greeted them cheerfully.

“Hello, Suzanne! How are you this fine morning?” Tom greeted her and Dom had to roll his eyes because his mate was flirting with the poor girl, _again._ Suzanne was their regular waitress at the café and served them pretty much every time they visited. She was a petite woman in her late 20s, and hadn’t known them the first time they had ordered a couple of coffees with a dash of cognac, and a hot chocolate for Matt (for which she still teased him). She was sweet and if Dom didn’t have his eyes on someone else already, he was sure he’d ask her out.

“I’m fine, thank you, Mr. Kirk,” she replied shyly. “Can I bring you anything?”

“I’ve told you, it’s Tom. Please.” He grinned at her. “And yes, my dear. I’d like a cappuccino and a tuna sandwich. What about you guys?”

Suzanne had just left towards the kitchen when Dom felt his phone vibrate. Without looking at the screen he picked up and spat “About fucking time. You better get your damn arse here or I’ll-”

“Dom.”

Chris’ voice made Dom halt in his rambling. It sounded off, too small for the bassist.

“Dom, listen. I need you guys to come to Matt’s.”

The blonde raised an eyebrow. “Why? What’s up? Is he okay?”

“Just… You need to come right the fuck now.”

Dom put the phone away. “Guys, it’s Chris. He says we have to come to Matt’s. Dunno what’s up. But he sounds… he sounds really weird.”

“But my tuna sandwich!” Tom cried, but got up anyway. “Tell the wonderful lady to pack it up, I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

___

Dom had a pretty bad feeling since they’d left the café. He found it strange to hear Chris sounding so shaken on the phone. Usually the bassist was the last to be shocked by anything, especially anything concerning Matt. So hearing him like this made the drummer’s stomach churn and his adrenaline spike. Maybe it was nothing and he had just imagined that? If something _had_ happened, Chris would have told him, right?

The blonde drummed his fingers on the leather interior of the car. The way from the café to Matt’s place wasn’t that long, but it felt like an eternity now. He looked around in the car and saw that all of his friends had a tight expression on their faces, just as nervous as he was. In a way, it made him feel better, knowing that he wasn’t the only one being worried. They hadn’t even heard Chris’ voice, but from Dom’s description alone they knew something was up.  

“Wonder what the wanker did this time,” Tom muttered, probably to try and lighten the heavy mood, but no one seemed inclined to say something to that. They stayed quiet until they turned right onto Matt’s street. They found it littered with blue flashing lights.

“What the fuck?” Morgan shouted and tried to get a better look through the front window. Tom and Dom A joined him.

Meanwhile, Dom’s stomach had done a summersault and he was close to throwing up on the expensive leather seat and Tom’s shirt. Police cars never meant anything good, especially not a _whole fucking street_ full of them. Was Matt hurt? Shit, something must have happened to Matt. It explained why Chris had been so weird during the phone call. The drummer felt close to crying.

As soon as the car stopped he jumped out and ran towards the police barrier where Chris was already waiting, the others close behind him.

“Chris!” Dom cried out as he practically ran into his taller bandmate. Chris only just about managed to catch him before he could stumble over one of the steps that led up to Matt’s front door.

“What happened?” Tom asked nervously while alternating between looking at Chris and throwing glances up to the three policemen gathered on the doorstep.

“Not sure yet,” Chris mumbled. “They didn’t really tell me anything specific. Just that…” He swallowed hard. “Just that someone must’ve broken into the house last night. There are traces of a fight and… Matt’s not here.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Matt’s not here? What does that even mean?” Dom A enquired with shock written all over his features.

Chris inclined his head before he answered. “Their guess is that he got… erm… abducted.”

“No, this can’t be right,” Tom said hastily, trying to plaster a smile on his face. “Maybe he’s just staged an alien abduction to fuck with us. Payback, y’know? Because we didn’t take him seriously?”

Chris shook his head and just like that Tom deflated. Morgan squeezed his shoulder while trying to make eye contact with any of the policemen or women. There were about seven of them. How hard could it be to get one to inform them about their findings?

Dom was still clinging to the fabric of Chris’ shirt, trying very hard to get his breathing and shaking limbs back under control. It was difficult not to break into sobs but he managed. _Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out…_ Chris rubbed his back soothingly until Dom’s fingers relaxed and eventually let go off the bassist’s shirt.

“Come on, we don’t know anything for certain yet,” he whispered so only Dom could hear it. The drummer tried to compose himself before he nodded and took another, already steadier breath.

“Oi! Why isn’t anyone telling us anything?” Morgan eventually shouted up and into the house.

One of the men at the front door turned around to acknowledge their presence, then leant over to whisper something to his colleague before making his way to them.

“Chief Inspector Whitman,” he introduced himself to the newcomers and quickly took down their particulars. Then he looked at them again. “You are all associated to Mr. Bellamy, I take it?”

Dom huffed at that. “We’re his best friends. What happened to him?”

CI Whitman nodded at that and let out a small sigh. “Mr Bellamy’s neighbour from next door called us in about an hour ago. She states to have heard weird noises from the house late last night but didn’t think too much of it because, as she put it, _he’s either quiet like a mouse or makes as much noise as a whole orchestra anyway_. Her reason for reporting this was actually that, upon not seeing him fetching his post this morning, she went up to his door and found it unlocked. Now we’re still waiting for the forensics to get here. As far as we can tell the intruder came in through the terrace door and surprised Mr. Bellamy in the living room. The main struggle took place in the hallway. About the rest we cannot be certain as yet because it looks like pretty much like the whole house has been ransacked.”

“But where is Matt?” Tom asked the question all of them wanted an answer to.

The Chief Inspector took a deep breath and said, “We don’t know. There are traces of blood and we-”

“Blood?!” Dom exclaimed in horror and then it happened. The blonde ducked under the police line before anyone could stop him and sprinted past a few surprised police officers, not caring about the calls of his friends. He needed to see. But before he was able to accidentally tackle one of the officers down, someone caught him by the arm. Too late, though. He was already at the doorstep. The whole hallway looked like a battlefield and there was _blood_. Fucking _BLOOD_! Little puddles of it on the carpet and the floor, stains on the wall and a blood red _handprint_!

His stomach twisted into tight knots and he could only do so much not to throw up onto the Chief Inspector’s uniform. He was the one who had caught Dom and was now still holding on to his arm, concern creasing his face. Dom felt like his world was tilting to the side and his knees buckled dangerously.

“Do you want to sit down?” Whitman asked and without waiting for an answer, he guided the drummer down one step. There he pushed him gently into a sitting position.

His friends had all passed the police line now and, oddly enough, none of the other officers stopped them. Chris knelt down in front of Dom and put his hands on his knees, trying to shake him out of his breakdown.

“There’s blood. Everywhere. Did he… did that guy… did he kill him?” Dom whispered shakily under his breath.

All eyes turned to the CI who shook his head. “No, we are fairly certain your friend is still alive. We have found a cloth on the guest bathroom floor. It was soaked with chloroform. I also looks like the intruder took a few of Mr. Bellamy’s belongings with him. These are all indications of a planned abduction.”

“Sir?” Before any of them could react to that, a constable had come out of the house and handed the CI a piece of paper. “We found this in the bathroom.”

Whitman inspected it and frowned a little. “It looks like your friend left us a message. I know you’re all very shaken up right now, but does this mean anything to you?”

Chris took the paper with slightly shaky fingers. Tom, Morgan and Dom A leant over his shoulder to get a better look at it while Dom wrapped his arms around his knees and waited for their assessment.

“Oh no,” Chris whispered. “Fuck, no.”

“What is it?” Dom asked quietly.

“He… Matt was right. And we didn’t believe him.” Chris tried to pull himself together and looked at Whitman. “Matt, he… we were on tour and he had this feeling of being stalked. There was a guy whom he’s seen at one of our concerts and at the hotel and then at the airport in Helsinki. We didn’t believe him because he has a tendency to overreact… but… shit.”

Dom suddenly snatched the paper from Chris’ hands. Next to the unfinished crossword puzzle (Dom recognised this one, he had been the one who’d put down ‘Babylon’ across) there was Matt’s hasty scrawl, half covered by a bloody fingerprint. The words made his heart sink even further.

_It’s him._

They all fell silent. Matt had been right. They hadn’t believed him. The guilt they felt at that moment was almost tangible.

___

 

_???_

When Matt came to his senses, the first thing he realised was that he was not in his bed. Had he drunk so much that he had passed out on his floor? The headache he was sporting definitely attested to that. But there was nothing else that would indicate a hangover. Maybe he’d taken too much Xanax and had knocked himself out pretty badly? Yeah, that could be it, considering how much he had struggled with sleep last night. _No more pills for you, Bells,_ he thought.

The singer groaned out loud. This headache was killing him. For a moment he wondered if he had passed out and knocked his head on the table or something, because this didn’t feel like his usual hangover headache. His head was pounding as if someone was using a percussion drill right next to his ear. Another groan escaped his lips before he touched his head with his right hand. Wait, there was… something? He felt around it and realised it was a bandana or a bandage. Weird.

It took him a couple of minutes before his mind finally caught up with what had happened and he shot up abruptly, remembering how the creepy guy had broken into his house and assaulted him. Shit. Shitshitshitshit. Matt took a look around his… was it a prison he was held at? He didn’t know, everything was so dark. Apparently there were no windows, so he couldn’t count on sunlight. Or moonlight, as he didn’t know if it was day or night. How long had he been unconscious? His pulse began to race, which only made his headache worse, but he couldn’t stop panicking. His mind was reeling. Were Dom and the others okay? Were they already looking for him? Would they find him? And how dangerous was this guy? He’d been following them around for weeks and had known which hotels they were staying at and which airports they’d be at. What else did he know? He must have planned this for a long time, considering how easily he had tracked the singer down, it seemed. He had assaulted him and taken him somewhere. Who knew what his intentions were. To kill him? Unlikely, he’d had his chance and didn’t act on it at all. Ransom? No, no, he had said he wasn’t interested in money. So what did he want from Matt? A shudder ran through the singer, a thousand ideas assaulting his mind, each worse than the previous. A sob escaped his lips before he could stop it. Whatever this guy’s intention, it wasn’t going to end well for him, that much was obvious. He rubbed at his eyes. No, no he couldn’t think about this now. He had to get out of here. But first he had to find out where _here_ was.

Slowly, he got up from his position and felt around his cell. He walked around cautiously, careful not to bump into anything. He used his hands to feel whatever was in front of him. It felt soft to the touch, a blanket probably. He felt around it a bit more to find something that resembled a bed. Matt huffed, his attacker could have put him there instead of the floor. Just another piece in the puzzle that showed him that whoever this guy was, he wasn’t interested in Matt’s comfort.

From the bed he managed to find the wall and felt along it. There didn’t seem to be any pictures, not that he expected that, but he could feel wallpaper under his fingers. Interesting. The room wasn’t that big, so he quickly approached the corner and followed the next wall until he bumped into something solid that reminded him of wood. Upon further inspection he realised it was a door frame.

A naive hope settled in his stomach and he quickly tried to locate the door handle. When he did find and tried it, his hope quickly deflated. Of course the door was locked, it had been stupid to think otherwise. Just for emphasis he kicked against it and immediately cursed himself, because he could add a hurting foot to his skull splitting headache now.

Feeling that there was no use in continuing his exploration of this prison while it was pitch black, he sat down on the ground and crossed his arms. His pulse was still racing and his mind refused to accept any form of rationality, telling him to _runrunrun_ at any given opportunity. But he needed to think about this now. If he wanted to get out of here, he needed to be patient, he knew that. His attacker was nearly double his size, easily had a head on Chris as well, and had shown that he didn’t care about Matt’s well-being. This guy could probably break his neck in two with a simple motion of his hand and wouldn’t regret it for a single second. No, brute force wouldn’t get Matt out of here.

He took a deep breath. First of all, he needed to calm the fuck down, panicking wouldn’t get him anywhere. If he wanted to come out of this alive, he needed to think of a plan. He closed his eyes and took another calming breath, _in and out, in and out._ Matt’s pulse finally slowed down, his mind calming down enough for some rational thoughts. If he couldn’t fight his way out, he needed to come up with a strategy. That meant that he had to familiarise himself with his surroundings, maybe find a weapon in whatever this room held. Then he could find a way out. One step at a time.

Suddenly, Matt’s ears perked up. There were footsteps outside, coming closer to his door. He waited patiently, fully expecting the door to swing open any minute. His pulse started to race again, a knot forming in his stomach. His hands balled into fists in an attempt to control his fear and anger. He needed to remind himself of his plan, _stay calm and observe._ The steps came closer and closer and stopped in front of the door. Silence. A minute passed, or maybe it were just seconds, Matt couldn’t tell, but nothing happened. The brunette was just about to shout something at the door when the steps retracted. He stayed on the floor for some more time before he slowly got up, still staring into the dark approximately where the door was located. He was just about to move to the bed when the lights went on.

Blinded by the sudden force of brightness, Matt put his hands in front of his eyes.

It took him a few moments to adjust but then he squinted and started to see through the blur again. At first his eyes darted around hectically, almost desperate to take in as much of his surroundings as possible as he couldn’t be sure how long the light would be on. The room was decorated like some sort of bedroom. There was a smallish cabinet and a chest of drawers at the wall next to the bed. In the middle of the room there was a piano. It looked old but far too expensive for his liking. What the hell was he being dragged into here?

But what really made his heart stop was the broad mirror embedded into the wall next to the door. From where he was still crouching on the floor it seemed like that mirror was overlooking the complete room. His brain went into top speed mode (as top speed as it could get considering the blow he’d taken to the head). Just the sight of that mirror was scary, as if it was there to fulfill a purpose other than just reflecting the room. It was simply massive. There was also no frame to be seen as it was directly installed into the wall. That observation rang a faint bell but Matt just couldn’t remember for the sake of his life. His head was still throbbing while every movement, every thought made a sharper pain thunder through his head and down his sore neck.

He eventually scrambled off the floor and tried to support his weight on the bed frame. When he looked at his reflection in the creepy mirror, his stomach performed an impressive summersault. It was not the fact that he looked _beat_. While his eyes were sagging from the insomnia, his forehead was tightly wrapped in a white bandage and his face was clear of the blood he knew had been there when he’d lost consciousness. His right cheek was bruised and slightly swollen and his nose felt awfully sore. In fact his whole body felt sore and exhausted from the strain it had been under mere hours ago. Or… had it been hours? Matt really wasn’t sure. No, what really caught his attention and made him cringe away from his mirror image was the fact that he was wearing his sweatpants and one of his few nondescript, black t-shirts. He had not been wearing that when he had gotten ambushed at his house, he was sure of that, even in his addled brain.

“What the hell is going on?” he mumbled to himself and was just about to bury his face in his hands when a screeching hissing noise echoed through the room.

Matt’s head shot up and he immediately regretted the uncontrolled movement. It was only when he had managed to steady his vision again, that he saw the two speakers in the front corners of the room. This was getting stranger and more unsettling by the minute. With a sudden crack the speakers went completely silent until Matt was able to make out the faint sound of breathing. He instantly got a serious case of goose flesh and he felt like curling in on himself in some corner.

Then a deep, distorted and aggravatingly calm voice resonated from the walls and seemingly directly into his head. Matt cringed away again as he was addressed.

“Hello Matthew. I am deeply sorry for the inconveniences you had to endure but I saw no other way to get you here.”

The singer narrowed his eyes and his voice only shook the tiniest bit when he replied. “You could’ve just asked, you know? Like any other sane person.”

“But you would have said no. And I am not known for taking no for an answer. I always get what I want.”

“You’re crazy!” Matt spat at the mirror and was uncomfortably aware of the fact that he was talking to his own face.

“No, I am determined. And influential. That is something you need to know about me now that we are living together.” The voice’s intonation didn’t change in the slightest, did not even waver. It was deeply unsettling, especially as the next words were spoken. “I want you, Matthew. All of you. I want your talent, your ideas, your harmonies, all your compositions and your voice to be mine alone.”

“WHO ARE YOU, YOU FUCKING MENTAL PSYCHOPATH BASTARD?” Matt suddenly burst out without having planned to do so.

“From now on I am going to be the only and most important person in your life, Matthew.”

As soon as the anger had bubbled up, it faded again and left him with a hollow feeling of desperation. “God, please tell me you’re just some batshit crazy fan! Please, I’ll give you whatever you want if you just let me go. I swear I won’t go to the police!”

“Nah, nah, Matthew.” Now the voice sounded almost amused. Jesus, he had been kidnapped by a bloody psychotic criminal. “You are not going to leave this place again. Now save your breath and get some rest. There is plenty of work ahead and you had a stressful day.”

“They’re going to find me! And then they’ll lock you up until-”

Matt’s sentence was cut short as the speakers went out with another crack. With it the lights got switched off as well and once again he was sitting in perfect darkness. Physically and mentally exhausted to the point of simply wanting to give himself over to unconsciousness, Matt heaved himself onto the bed. As soon as his body was touching the mattress, he curled up and cradled his face in his hands, tears finally threatening to spill over.

What the fuck was happening to him now? Were they really looking for him? Had they already realised that he was missing? Was the police at his house? Would they find the blood stains on the walls and the carpet? Well, they obviously would. But, more importantly, would they find his message? Would they be able to get him out of this mess? Oh, he prayed to God (or whichever deity was currently available) they would.

___

 

_06.08.2013 - London_

They weren’t allowed to enter the house for two days. The police had told them that the forensics had to secure all evidence first before anyone was allowed inside. Dom wasn’t sure if that was good or bad for his health, because he didn’t really want to _see_ but he wanted to _know_ , as well. No, not wanted, _needed_ to see what had happened to his best friend.  

It was strange (and terrifying) not to hear anything from Matt. They never went this long without hearing from each other, not even when they were fighting. Dom remembered that the last time they hadn’t spoken to each other must have been about 15 years ago, when Matt had decided to spend more time with those shady kids that sold drugs in their hometown. Back then Dom had been so scared that Matt had started taking said drugs that they had a huge fight over it. After that they hadn’t spoken to each other for over a week, before Matt had knocked at his door, tears staining his face and shaking like a leaf. For a terrible moment Dom had feared that Matt was showing withdrawal symptoms until Matt had explained that he had seen one of the guys overdosing and dying right in front of him, explaining his state of shock and fear. Dom had taken him in without another word, apologies unnecessary between them. Later that night they had promised each other never to stay apart again, at least not for longer than two days without a text or e-mail if they couldn’t see each other, no matter what happened.

Standing in front of the door to Matt’s house, the blonde wondered if Matt wouldn’t be able to keep the promise this time. A tiny voice in the back of his mind reminded him that, just a couple of days ago, he had been so angry at the singer simply for not showing up to their meeting on time that he had spoken on his answerphone that he was gonna kill him the next time he saw him. Dom would never forgive himself if those were the last words between them.

“Alright?”

Dom looked up to Chris’ worried face. They had decided to tidy up, just the two of them, for when Matt came back to them. _If_ he came back. The blonde shook his head to get rid of the morbid thought and nodded.

“Yeah, just… thinking too much.”

“You don’t have to do this, you know that.” The bassist’s hand landed on Dom’s shoulder, the frown deepening further, if that was even possible. “I’d be fine doing it on my own.”

“No, no,” Dom hastily said and pushed the door open.

He went in first, Chris closely behind him, taking in the state of the hallway. There was glass everywhere on the floor, the destroyed frames that used to hang at the wall scattered across. While the drummer was rooted to the spot, Chris slipped quietly past him into the living room. Dom stared at one picture in particular, taken just a couple of months ago. It was the three of them sitting on the sofa in this very house, laughing and raising their glasses. Tom had taken it shortly after midnight on New Year’s Eve, when they had partied together at Chris’ place. They had toasted to another amazing year as friends and to another great tour behind them and up ahead. Matt had simply grinned and announced that this would be _their_ year. They had all agreed before resuming their previous talks. Dom had looked at Matt then, and when the singer had returned his look and smiled at him, the blonde had just known that he wanted that man, completely.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Dom bent down to pick up the broken frames, remembering small stories connected to the pictures. He carefully put them on top of a shelf and looked around. There was broken furniture and speckles of blood everywhere. Once again he swallowed hard. There, right next to the bathroom door was the bloody handprint. _Matt’s_ handprint. He slowly walked over and let his hand hover over it, trying to imagine what had happened the night Matt vanished. All of sudden, the blonde felt sick. He should have been there for his friend. He should have brought some sushi and they could have talked about new songs or watched telly or done whatever. Would all of this have happened if he had stayed over the night? Would they both be god knows where now? At least they wouldn’t be alone. Matt was all alone now…

Before Dom could even decide to throw up or continue on his path of negative thoughts, he heard Chris swearing from the living room. With one last look at the bloody handprint on the wall he turned on his heels and peeked around the door frame to the living room, trying to block out the chaos that was still there. It wasn’t as terrible as it was in the hallway - he didn’t know if that was thanks to Chris tidying up or the fact that most of the fight must have happened over there - but it hurt to see the place in such a disarray. There were papers scattered around the piano, that had never happened. Matt might not be the tidiest person, but he took meticulous care of his instruments and sheet music.

Carefully he picked up the papers and looked through them. Dom recognised some of the notes, some he didn’t. He had to smile when he saw the old sheet music for Starlight. Matt had kept it back from 2006 until now, simply because Dom loved that song to bits. He was sure Matt knew the notes by heart, but whenever Dom felt down or was simply quieter than usual, the brunette would pull out the sheet, tell him to relax and play the song on the piano for him.

There was newly written material, as well, and Dom knew that Matt must have done it the night of the abduction. Matt could never keep quiet whenever he’d come up with something new, sometimes even going so far as to calling Dom in the middle of the night just to tell him (he never did that to Chris, knowing that it would earn him more than a smack to the back of his head). At this moment, Dom longed to hear his best friend’s excited voice.

He sighed heavily and tried to compose himself before he carefully put the papers on top of the piano lid and walked over to Chris.

“Need any help here?” he asked.

The bassist turned around, a couple of books in his hands. “Nah, I think I’m nearly done. I… It’s weird, y’know?”

Dom didn’t really know what Chris expected him to say and, quite frankly, he didn’t even want to speak right now, so he simply nodded. He picked up some more books from the floor and handed them to Chris.

They worked in silence for a bit, Dom ignoring the hallway for the most part. Chris had gotten the hint at some point and took it on him to tidy up the hallway and get a bucket of warm water, trying to wash away most of the blood. Dom walked around the house, still trying to get a picture of what had happened two days ago. It seemed like Matt had been in the living room when his attacker had entered through the terrace door. However, the singer’s things were scattered around the whole house and it didn’t make any sense to Dom. Most of the clothes were ripped out of the wardrobe. A Bellamy tantrum? Unlikely. There were also lots of small, ordinary things placed in different spots. It wasn’t something other people would find out of the ordinary, but Dom knew how anal Matt could be about these things. Had his attacker been looking for anything particular? Or had he been trying to hide something?  

He started to put the clothes back into the wardrobe, careful to organise them just as he had seen Matt doing it. He couldn’t resist taking one of the t-shirts, though, and smelling the fresh scent of Matt’s detergent. Tears immediately sprang to his eyes, but that didn’t stop him from taking another sniff.

“God…” he whispered to himself and could feel the strength leaving his body. He was so scared.

Determinedly avoiding more tears and another breakdown, he wiped his eyes. He folded the t-shirt again and put it in its appropriate spot in the wardrobe. Then he went downstairs and walked around the living room again. Accidentally, he knocked the sheet music down again, watching the papers fly to the ground like snowflakes falling softly. He crouched down to collect them and had to find that one paper was suddenly missing. He spotted it being half hidden under a cupboard, so he crawled over to retrieve it. When Dom pulled it out, he saw something glittering under the cupboard. Being curious as he was, he flattened his hand to the floor to got it under the cupboard to pull out the mysterious item.

What he saw, though, made his heart stop and break into million pieces. It was a simple silver necklace, or, at least, the remains of it, as it was broken. He would have recognised that chain anywhere, considering he had bought it for Matt’s 31st birthday. How it had gotten there, he couldn’t fathom, but that didn’t really matter to him.

As if it was finally sinking in, his world turned upside down and he had to push his back against the cupboard to stop himself from swaying. Dom stared at the broken necklace again, breathing hard and fat tears rolling down his cheeks before he even realised he had started to cry.

“Matt…” he whispered brokenly.

With his thumb he stroked the silver chain as if he was caressing the singer’s cheek.

“Matt…” he whispered again, before he sobbed loudly and then let out a painful howl.

He didn’t really realise that Chris had come running to his side. Or that he had hugged him tightly or was whispering words of comfort into his ear. Dom’s gaze was fixed on the necklace and his mind on that one word - _Matt_ \- that everything else didn’t really matter at the moment. He simply cried for a long time, before he realised that Chris was still here, sitting next to him and holding him tightly.

“Sorry,” he mumbled quietly.

Chris didn’t move away. “S’alright, don’t worry.”

“I’m snotting all over your shirt.”

None of them moved for another couple of minutes, the silence as comfortable as it could be in these times.

At last, Chris slowly got up and held his hand out to the drummer. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

Dom took another look at the necklace in his hands, before he stuffed it into his pocket and nodded at Chris. He took the offered hand, just to let himself be pulled onto his shaky legs.

They exited the house quickly, both happy to leave as fast as they could. It felt a bit like they could leave the horror behind as well, even though it was a short lived lie. Dom took another look at the house and prayed to God (or whichever deity was currently available) that the nightmare would be over soon and he could take Matt into his arms again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this has been a real bitch. Can't even come up with enough swear words to tell you just how much we loath this chapter. I can tell you, however, that our fingers are bloody and our brains are bleeding out of our ears by now. Million thanks to everyone who's reading and commenting. Enjoy.

_???_

Black. What? Always black.

Matt blinked a few times and let out a small sigh. Of course everything was black. It had been like this for the past few days, most times he woke up it was like he hadn’t opened his eyes at all. Although sometimes he had been woken up by blinding light and the voice he’d come to associate with sheer dread.

Technically speaking he didn’t even know if it really had been days. There was no clock, no windows, no nothing that could indicate time. He really had no idea for how long he’d been in this room now because he’s stopped counting the seconds. Sometimes there’d been a tray of food in front of his bed when he’d woken up. Oh yes, he was hungry. By now he always was. But he didn’t dare to touch what he was given because there was no way of knowing whether his abductor might just poison him to get it over with.

Really, he had no idea _why_ he was here. Of course The Voice (yes, capital letters) had told him. But those weren’t real reasons, were they? Well… maybe for a madman they were.

Matt stretched a little and his joints popped painfully as he rolled onto his side. He’d come to know this room like he knew his songs. By heart. He knew where the furniture was, how to avoid bumping into anything when he wandered around in the dark, and where he could find a faint draught just under the door. He also knew the feeling of the fabric of his blanket, when he dug his fingers into it, dreaming of more dreadful things to come, or the never-changing cold of the tiles under his naked feet. Yes, he knew it all and wished he didn’t.

The most alarming thing, though, was probably that he was already getting used to it. To the darkness and the unmoving air and the constant cold in his bones that had nothing to do with the tiles.

With yet another sigh he pressed his face into the soft pillow and wished for it to be over. He wanted out. He _needed_ to get out. But there was no way he hadn’t already tried. The door was unyielding and the mirror was hard and sturdy like a rock.

Matt didn’t cry. No. There was no use in crying. It wouldn’t change a single thing. Not for the first time since his abduction the singer wondered what his friends were up to. Of course he knew they were probably doing their best to find him. But sometimes, the best simply wasn’t enough. He knew better than to blame them for it. It wasn’t their fault. It was no one’s fault, really. Even if they’d believed him, there was no way they could’ve stopped this. Because Matt surely wouldn’t have allowed them to watch over him 24/7, even if he was scared.

He felt like shouting and screaming and beating the shit out of the person who was responsible for this. Also… no way. And because he wasn’t able to relieve any of the tension and stress that kept his body on edge constantly, he curled up into the foetal position and tried to calm his nerves.

The singer had fallen into a light sleep again when suddenly the lights flashed on and a static sound preceded a tiny cough. Then The Voice spoke to him again. He instinctively sat up and squared his shoulders as if it made him look bigger and more determined. The truth was, though, that he did not even feel close to being self-confident.

“Good afternoon, Matthew,” The Voice greeted him as his eyes, as always, were fixed on his own reflection in the massive mirror. He didn’t reply. The Voice didn’t care. “As you might have guessed, you are not just here for the fun. No, I have already told you that you are here because I want all of you to be mine. And I want people to know it.”

“What?” Matt finally spluttered. This person couldn’t be serious.

“Yes, you heard right. There are clothes on the piano bench. I want you to put them on now. As you have not even touched the food I offered you these past few days, I take it you are not hungry. Although you must be. Maybe you will eventually learn to appreciate what you are given. Now change your clothes.”

Matt stared at his wide-eyed reflection and and gaped a little at the order. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I never kid.”

The singer let his gaze wander over to the piano bench and he nearly doubled over in shock when he caught sight of the black guitar. _His_ black guitar. His black _Manson Carbon_. What the actual fuck? It was casually leaning against said piano bench and… WHAT? There was also one of his megaphones sitting on top of the piano lid. Shit!

His stomach clenched painfully at the sight and he had to take another look at the piano, just to make sure it wasn’t his. He didn’t even dare to look at the clothes on the bench because he was afraid of what might await him there. But in the end he had to as The Voice was getting more impatient by the minute.

“What are you waiting for, Matthew? A personal invitation?”

Slowly and very deliberately he got up from the bed, still holding on to its foot. He didn’t really trust his legs right now. There, just as he had expected, lay his clothes. His _gig_ clothes. Finally letting go of the bed, he took a few small steps towards the piano. His black leather jacket lay neatly folded on top of his red trousers alongside his Hugo Boss shirt. The whole situation was so surreal that he started to get a little dizzy and he clutched onto the piano for support. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be.

“No,” he muttered under his breath.

“Excuse me? Matthew?”

“No, I’m not gonna play along with your sick game or whatever the hell this is to you!” Suddenly his voice was loud and filled the whole room, but leaving only an echo of it in his own ears.

There was a deep, steadying breath coming through the speakers. Matt wasn’t really sure whether this had been one of his better moves, but his mouth had made it a habit not to cooperate with his brain. Timing wasn’t one of its strengths either.

“Matthew, you cannot be serious about this. You know I don’t like to threaten you, but I will do so if I have to.”

“Threaten me with what? You’ve already made my life a living hell!” _Shut up, mouth, just shut up!_

The speakers went dead with another crack and for one minute Matt was just standing there, completely unsure of what had just happened. His legs had regained some of their strength by then and he slowly closed the remaining distance between the bench and himself. He dragged his fingers over the soft material of his shirt and his heart skipped another beat when he looked down at his guitar again. The clothes he understood. That psychopath must have taken them from his house when he’d ambushed Matt. But the guitar and the megaphone… No. Those had been with the rest of their equipment. The moment he slid his index finger over one of the strings, there was a creaking sound behind him and he whirled around.

There he was. Mr Psychopath Abductor himself. And he didn’t look pleased at all. Matt gave him a quick once-over before stepping away, only to bump into the piano and almost lose his balance. He caught himself, though, and managed to stay on his feet. The man was carrying a gun. A fucking gun! It’s not like the singer hadn’t expected something like this of his “host” but actually seeing it… well, it scared the living daylights out of him.

“Where did you get that guitar from?” He tried to keep his voice steady, but didn’t quite manage as it almost broke on the word _guitar_.

The man didn’t answer, instead he just looked at the clothes pointedly and let out a threatening growl.

“Do it.”

Matt swallowed when his eyes followed the man’s hands motioning towards the gun under his belt.

“Now.”

No. No, he really didn’t want to. Then again, that gun looked downright lethal, for lack of a better word. As did its master. He had not planned on dying in here. The problem, though, was that nothing had gone according to plan ever since that guy had first shown up at their gig. That man could probably do whatever he wanted with him _and_ get away with it. He didn’t really look like your average diplomat.

“What if I don’t?” Matt looked shocked even before the words had left his mouth.

“You really don’t want to know.” The reply came in the form of a low snarl and the singer flinched a little. He hated to be vulnerable and scared, but seriously, he didn’t have a lot of emotional options right now.

When Matt still didn’t move, the man closed in on him and grabbed him by the throat roughly. “This is really not just about you, you know? I know your little friends. Now think about your question about that guitar again.”

Matt’s eyes widened in shock. No. No. Nononononono.

“You wouldn’t,” he rasped and knew it wasn’t true when the man’s eyes twinkled dangerously.

“You really think that?”

Matt shook his head frantically and the man let go just as his windpipe was about to give in to the pressure. He was shoved towards the piano bench and without much thinking Matt grabbed the clothes and tried to move past the man and to his bed.

“Good,” his abductor spat and positioned himself next to the door, crossing his arms and waiting for Matt to change.

Feeling utterly humiliated and now not only scared for his own life but for those of his friends as well, he started to undress. His throat was aching badly when he pulled the shirt over his head and bent down to push his legs into the red trousers. All the while he felt a pair of sharp eyes following his every move. Eventually he turned around, completely dressed in his gig outfit minus the shoes. His toes curled on the cold tiles and he didn’t dare to look at the man directly.

“Now sit down. We’re going to take some pretty pictures of you.”

Matt huffed out a disbelieving breath and looked over at the piano. That guy was really getting off on degrading him, the singer could hear it in his voice, even see it in his stance. The thought of Dom and Chris and the others forced him towards the massive instrument, though, and he sat down.

Not even a second later he felt strong and determined hands tying his legs to the bench. What the fuck? He looked down at the guy kneeling next to him.

“I am just making sure that you’re not going to ruin these shots,” he smiled up in disgusting amusement and left Matt’s side as soon as the job was done.

The singer observed the man from the corner of his eyes, watching as he put up a very professional camera that would have had Tom in tears of joy. Then he returned and opened the lid over the keyboard.

“You better not mess this up.”

With that he left Matt alone again. His brain was screaming at him to just do whatever was expected of him. Now that his friends were fair game, there was so much at stake than just his own life. Matt hated it, but he guessed the psychopath didn’t give a flying shit about that.

With yet another crack the return of The Voice was announced and he instinctively flinched away from the sound.

“My dear Matthew,” it said almost lovingly, “ I promise you, this is going to be fun. You like posing for pictures, don’t you? Now, I even have a little surprise for you. The piano you are sitting at is one of the most important in musical history.”

Matt looked up a little, not least bit impressed. He didn’t care about historically important instruments or whether Bach had shagged on it. He didn’t care about anything but keeping his friends safe. So he tried to crack an appreciative smile. It didn’t even fool himself.

“It was Mozart’s. He composed his Eine kleine Nachtmusik on it.”

“Very nice,” Matt said, but it was just impossible for him to suppress the irony.

A low huff came through the speakers. “Matthew, I do not appreciate your attitude. And I don’t think your friends would either, if they knew. Now get over your arrogance and play.”

Matt’s eyes bugged at that. Arrogance? _His_ arrogance? _Arrogance my arse_ , Matt thought to himself but stretched out his fingers on the keys, nevertheless. He couldn’t stand the thought of dragging his friends into this, if he had the possibility of dealing with it on his own. The sheer fear made his hands tremble, though, and he didn’t dare to press down. What if he messed up? What would this man do?

“Play, Matthew.” The Voice sounded more impatient, but he couldn’t for his life think of any melody right now. Music was the very last thing on his mind. But maybe he could, for the others’ lives.

Just as he pressed down the first few keys and missed half of what he had intended to play, the camera started flashing its white, blinding light and he had to squint.

“Matthew, I think you will have to try harder,” The Voice scolded him.

“I cannot even reach the fucking pedals with my feet tied up,” he argued desperately and turned his head towards the door, but it didn’t change a thing.

“Think of your friends and _try harder_.”

Matt let his head fall forwards a little and kept trying. He had never felt worse in his whole life.

___

 

_Somewhere in London_

“Lasagna is in the oven. I’ll see you tonight, darling!” his mother called from downstairs before she left to get to work. It’d been like this for the past couple of years, since his dad had left them for a younger woman, claiming that family life wasn’t “his thing”. He came home from school and his mum left for work, leaving him to his own devices and thoughts. Well, at least he could play something without anyone interrupting him.

He loved music. It was his life since he had been a small child. His grandfather had taught him how to play the guitar and showed him the beauty that was classical music. He had been interested in anything musical since then.

Later, when he had gotten his first job and money, he bought himself a couple of vinyls, which quickly evolved into a collection of CDs and vinyls, and later anything music related. None of his friends had ever understood his obsession. Yes, they loved music, but none of them ever felt the connection he did.

When he had found this website where collectors could show their collections and discuss everything and anything with their fellow collectors, he felt excited and _not so alone with his passion_ anymore. Sure, it wasn’t the most… legal community, considering quite a few of the items were stolen or indexed, but he’d made a few friends over there, close friends, that knew more about him than anyone else, probably even his mum. The website felt like home.

So logging into The Music Collector’s Guild was deeply rooted in his daily routine. Today was no different; as soon as his laptop had booted up he navigated to the board. He was especially looking forward to talking to Steven again, as the guy had been about to bid for a Stradivarius last night. He really wanted to know how that had gone. Also, there was this new girl at the board who had asked him for some advice on how to get along with people around there.

One of the richer and therefore more popular members had announced something special for today and everybody was quite nervous about that. People were already discussing what that surprise could be in the open chat room and after typing out a quick “Let’s just wait and see what it is this time”, he scrolled through his inbox and then the most recent threads.

After a minute or two he got a notification that announced a new thread. He immediately reloaded the page and scrolled up again. Yes, Beethovens5th had posted. Nobody really knew anything about that collector, but it was widely known that the user was well versed in anything related to music. There were rumours of course, but nothing solid.

The thread was titled _August Update No. 2_ and B5 - as they called the user - had written a short paragraph which basically said that the latest addition to the collection had a personal value. Curious now he opened the cut to reveal the pictures.

What he revealed there let his blood run cold, though. The lighting was professional and the grand, antique piano shimmered perfectly black but there was something horrendously wrong in those three pictures. The man who sat at said piano. Because he didn’t just sit there. He actually _was_ sat. It looked like his ankles were tied to the piano stool, his hands just lay feebly on the keyboard, pressing down some random keys, and his head hang low between his shoulders. Only the third picture really showed his profile, as he was looking up. His lips were pressed together firmly and his eyes closed, dark strands of hair sticking to his forehead and his clothes looked a bit out of place. There were dark bruises almost looking like fingerprints on the side of his neck and an already fading, but nevertheless visible, red streak across his right temple. It looked like it’d been a painful gash not long ago.

He was sure he’d seen that face somewhere, but he couldn’t quite place it. Was he a musician?

That could only have been a bad joke. Or was he missing the actual item? B5 couldn’t really have collected a… a person, right? A _real_ person? That was… no, that was just. No!

He refreshed the website again, the comments he’d expected already lining up under the post. Yes, people were just as confused as he was, asking about the actual item and the man in the pictures. Some even mentioned a name. Matt Bellamy. Somehow it sounded faintly familiar.

The man obviously wasn’t there of his own will. This was all kinds of wrong, and yet… and yet this was his family.

He didn’t know what to do.

___

 

_09.08.2013 - London_

When the call from the police came, Chris felt positive that this whole thing would be over soon. Maybe not immediately, they had said they had a lead, not Matt, but things were finally looking up.

He was now sitting in a cab headed to the police station, watching Dom, who was sitting with him in the back. The blonde hadn’t spoken a single word for the whole ride. He didn’t need to, Chris could see how pale and tense he looked. Dom was scared shitless and Chris couldn’t hold it against him.

The bassist put a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder, who turned around and smiled weakly at him. A silent conversation happened between them. They didn’t need to talk with words, they never had to.

_I’m scared._

_Me too. But everything will be okay._

Chris’ phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out to find a text message from Tom. He swore quietly.

“Hm?” Dom asked.

“Fucking paps in front of the station again.”

It was a regular occurrence by now. Just a couple of days after Matt had gone missing the media had caught wind of it, although they had all tried their hardest to keep it under wraps as long as possible. No one knew how they had found out, but someone must have told them. Since then, there were always paparazzi lurking wherever they went, and reporters asking for any news on the matter. It drove Chris nuts and it was a miracle he hadn’t smashed anyone’s head in yet. They had enough to worry about, they didn’t need these people breaching their privacy and stomping on their feelings just because they wanted to get the best story out of it. It went so far that he forbade everyone at home to turn on the TV, because Matt’s face was plastered on the news, no matter which channel was on.

There was no way they could avoid these people now, though, if they wanted to enter the police station and find out what news the police got. Watching the 20 or so people surround the car when it stopped, he took a deep breath and braced himself.

“You ready for this?” he asked Dom, who nodded hesitantly before they opened the doors to meet the awaiting hyenas.

As soon as they had left the car, the reporters had ambushed them. It felt like a dozen flashes went off at the same time, while at least a million voices assaulted them from every side. Chris couldn’t make out any logical sentence, it were just so many people shouting over each other. Not that he wanted to, because he couldn’t give a fuck about these bloodsuckers. He felt claustrophobic with all these people invading their sphere of privacy, and for one brief moment he considered buying a pack of cigarettes once they were done here.

They pushed through the masses and nearly made it to the stairs to the front doors, when Chris spotted an arm shooting out to grab Dom. As quick as a weasel he slapped the hand away, shooting daggers at the reporter.

“Fuck off”, he told him, before he gently grabbed Dom’s shoulder and pushed him up the stairs, effectively shielding him from everyone else.

Entering the doors felt like entering another world. It was still hectic with people running around and shouting from one corner of the room to the other, but it felt different, calmer. Chris felt Dom relax a bit next to him, and he breathed a sigh of relief himself.

The bassist looked around, trying to spot Tom and Morgan, who wanted to meet up with them. Dom A had excused himself, he had to take care of some things for the band. Chris couldn’t be angry at him, he knew how much it hurt his friend not to be here, but he had no other choice if they wanted to keep their employers as relaxed as possible. They didn’t need them at their backs, especially not with the media already waiting for one of them to make a mistake and spill something.

When he spotted their 2 friends at the far back of the room, deep in conversation, Chris nudged Dom carefully. “They’re over there.”

As soon as they had come close to them, Tom and Morgan had abruptly stopped talking, and Chris could only guess what it had been about. Dom narrowed his eyes, but didn’t say anything about it.

Instead he asked, “So, do we know anything new?”

Morgan shook his head no and Tom explained that Whitman had come out a couple of minutes ago to give them a brief summary, but there had been nothing definite. They had only waited for Chris and Dom to arrive, before the Chief Inspector wanted to give any information.

They told a policeman that was walking by to tell Whitman that they were complete, before they resumed their silence.

Chris sat down next to Tom and observed his surroundings. He felt weird sitting here, with these men who’d experienced so much bad around them. He wondered how anyone could do this job, it must be terrible to watch a family lose their father because someone else hated him, or tell a raped woman that they couldn’t do anything for her, or to show some normal blokes the dead body of their former friend. Chris shuddered.

He was getting morbid, he knew that. Not only did he have to forbid himself from following that train of thought, but he also had to remind himself that there was also good happening. Arresting people that were responsible for another person’s misery, finding lost ones. He hoped their case would get one of these happy endings.  

He watched Dom for a moment, who played with the pendant of his necklace. It was a nervous habit the drummer had developed over time. Matt always said that rubbing a shark’s tooth brought luck, which, quite honestly, was complete bullshit, but Chris wouldn’t have minded it to be true now.  

“Gentlemen,” a voice interrupted his thoughts and he turned around to see Whitman standing in the door.

They got up from their seats, while Dom pressed forward to squeeze himself through the door.

“Where’s Matt?” he asked and looked through the room as if he expected his friend to sit there and drink tea.

“We don’t know yet, Mr. Howard. But please, sit down first.”

Chris could see the battle Dom was fighting with himself to keep his composure plainly written across his face. He understood. He felt the same. They didn’t know yet.

“What is it then? Why have you called us in?” Dom snapped, but let himself be gently pushed into one of the chairs by Morgan.

The others sat down as well and the CI took a seat, as well, facing them.

“We have a fresh lead. A boy came in today, he did not know anything about Mr Bellamy’s abduction, but he is a long-time member of an internet platform for fans of music and especially collectors.”

“What does this have to do with Matt?” Dom interrupted and Chris noticed with a worried glance his friend’s hands were tightly gripping the edge of his chair.

“Yes, well, two nights ago he noticed some strange pictures having gone online on that website. By now we are positive that it is Mr Bellamy in those pictures. After his abduction. But we need you to confirm this for us.”

“Wait, what?” Chris blurted out. “Matt is on… there are new pictures of him? On a music collectors’ website?” He wasn’t sure whether he’d heard that right.

“Yes,” CI Whitman nodded.

“Who uploaded them?” Tom butted in, leaning forward in his chair.

“We do not know.” The CI shook his head in what was clearly frustration.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Dom’s eyes were impossibly wide at that moment. “How can you not know? Wouldn’t this lead us directly to Matt? And you ‘ _don’t know_ ’?” He made air quotes around his last words and stared at Whitman in utter disbelief and lack of understanding.

“Mr Howard, the person who uploaded these pictures clearly has good knowledge of encryption systems and doesn’t leave an IP address. We already checked the user profile but there is nothing of use on it. Not even a nickname.”

“I want to see the pictures,” Dom suddenly announced and got out of his chair.

“Dom.” Chris put his hand onto his friend’s shoulder and tried to calm him through his touch. It only worked in so far as that Dom shut up and instead chewed on his lip, shooting the CI dangerous looks.

“Of course, that’s why you are here anyway,” Whitman said, not taking any offence in Dom’s little outburst. “Mary, could you please bring in the photos?”

A short woman with dark curls walked swiftly into the room and handed the CI a large, brown envelope. Chris’ eyes followed every movement as Whitman pulled a few sheets of photo paper out of it. Then he handed the thin stack to him as the others gathered around him.

He took in the man sitting at the piano, feet tied together, the tenseness of his whole body visible, looking so tiny and vulnerable, even though you couldn’t see the face. No, that wasn’t Matt. Impossible. It was too surreal to imagine his best friend sitting there. He felt like throwing up.

“Matt…,” Dom whispered beside him and Chris immediately pulled himself out of his hole. He had to get through this.

“So, it’s your bandmate, yes?” Whitman asked, just for clarification purpose.

Tom nodded. “Yes… Yes, it’s him. It’s…”

Chris unconsciously moved his thumb over the photo while his thoughts drifted to his friend. The sudden rush of sadness nearly overwhelmed him, so he had to put it away and check the next.

They were showing full body shots of Matt wearing only his boxers, one front view, one from the side. It felt too personal and humiliating, and Chris felt the urge to break the abductor’s neck. He was too scared to look at his mate’s face, but Dom’s broken gasp made him turn his eyes up.

The sight shattered his his heart. Matt’s eyes were grimly focused on the camera but he could also see the fear in his friend’s face. There was an only recently healt gash on the side of his face and one large, hand-shaped bruise on his otherwise pale throat. Dark circles underlined his eyes and a slight stubble had grown on his cheeks and around his mouth. His hair looked a little straggly, but what really caught his attention was the look on his face. Matt looked nothing like himself despite the fact that Chris had seen him tired and unshaven and -showered more than a few times before. He looked completely beat and while some of his grim determination was still shining in his eyes, they were also clouded with fear and honest-to-God misery. No, he had never seen his friend like this before.

“He… Matt… What happened to him?” Dom whispered close to his shoulder and again he could hear the drummer’s voice breaking.

“We think the gash on the side of his temple is from the fight in his house,” the CI said quietly. He knew very well that this was a more than difficult situation for all of them. “The bruise on his throat looks fresher. One of our forensic scientists thinks that it’s probably from the same day the photos were taken.”

“It’s a handprint,” Tom breathed out in horror. “Did he… did that guy try to strangle him?”

“No, we think that it was used as some sort of threat. As dreadful as it might sound, but that man did not kidnap your friend to kill him. He is there for a reason and…” he halted in his speech for a moment, “and these pictures are probably a part of it.”

Chris sank back in his chair as he tried to get his head around that. What reason could this guy have to kidnap someone like Matt and upload pictures of him? He couldn’t understand it.

“This website,” the bassist began and tore his eyes from the pictures, “You said it’s a website for fans of music?”

Whitman nodded. “It’s a website for admirers of anything musical. From what we’ve gathered most of the items these people own have been missing for quite some time or were thought destroyed. The board is highly illegal, but also very well secured. Up until now we didn’t know it existed.”

“So, this person is using our singer as a collector’s item? Is that it?” Morgan asked.

“Indeed, that’s what we think,” the CI confirmed. He pointed at the 2 body shot pictures. “Those were being used on the user’s profile.”

He called for his assistant again, who brought in a laptop. Chris could see the pictures of Matt in the opened browser page and even though he’d already heard they were online, he shuddered at the thought of _strangers_ seeing the singer like this. He felt someone squeeze his thigh and realised that it was Dom. He looked at the drummer, whose face was glued to the screen in front of them.

Whitman used the mouse pad to scroll a bit down, revealing a text part.

“As you can see here, the user added information to the pictures,” he explained. “It gives an overview of Mr. Bellamy’s basic information. Age, height, etc. It seems like-”

“Take it down,” Dom interrupted him.

“Mr. Howard, we don’t-”

“Take. It. Down. I don’t want anyone to see this.”

“I am very sorry, but we cannot do that. If we take it down now, we might never get another sign of life from Mr. Bellamy and that’s a risk we cannot take. As long as the website is up, we can work on the IP address issue and maybe locate the user’s router. Also, it might get your friend into great danger if the abductor finds out that we are on his track.”

“On his track? This is what you call on his track?” Dom had gone from talking in low volume to full out shouting in mere seconds. He also ignored the CI’s reasoning completely.

“Dom, this is not helping,” Tom murmured and tried to keep in the drummer in his seat. “CI Whitman is right. If that website goes offline, we might never see him again.”

“Shut up,” Dom snarled through gritted teeth, but tried to calm down again. Deep down inside he had to know that he was being unreasonable, Chris thought and allowed himself a small sigh.

“This kid that came to you about the website, is he a member?”, Morgan asked.

“Yes,” Whitman nodded. “He came to us this morning and told us everything about the site. We’re currently investigating the whole matter.”

Dom stood up from his chair. “I want to see him.”

“I don’t think that is a good idea, Mr. Howard.”

“I don’t care,” he growled. “I want to fucking see him. And you will bloody well let me.”

Whitman sighed and remained silent for a few seconds, before he turned around to the door. His assistant immediately walked up to him, so he could whisper something into her ear. She left the room for a minute and when she returned, she nodded at her boss.

“Mr. Lancaster has agreed to see you. If you may follow me, please.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

_09.08.2013 - London_

“Gentlemen…” Whitman turned around to face the four men who had followed him down the hallway. He had his hand on the door handle. “Before we go in there, I need to remind you that he’s only a boy and probably a little scared.”  
  
Chris nodded and looked at his mates. Morgan and Tom nodded their understanding as well but Dom frowned a little. Chris raised his eyebrows at him. The drummer returned his look stubbornly but eventually nodded his head yes, as well. Jesus, this was not going to be easy.  
  
The CI gave them a grateful look and finally opened the door to his office, gesturing for them to follow him. There was a huge, wooden table to their right and a rather comfortable looking seating area to their left. Another officer got up from the sofa when they entered the room, and Whitman sent him off with a “Thank you” and a nod. The other person on the sofa looked up at them and from the scared look on his young face, Chris gathered that it had to be the boy they were supposed to meet. He didn’t look older than 18 and Chris felt almost sorry for him. Almost.  
  
“Ian, these are Mr Bellamy’s friends, Mr Wolstenholme, Mr Howard, Mr Kirk and Mr Nicholls,” Whitman addressed the boy who immediately got up. “Gentlemen, this is Ian Lancaster, the young man who provided us with the information about your friend.”  
  
An awkward silence filled the room before the CI cleared his throat and indicated to them that they all should sit down. Morgan was the first to do so and Tom followed suit. Dom was still rooted to the spot, eyeing Ian suspiciously while Chris was still trying to figure out what exactly he wanted to know.  
  
Ian looked at them, all his insecurities plainly visible on his features. With a sigh Chris tugged at Dom’s sleeve and they both sat down.  
  
“I think it would be best if you just told them what happened,” Whitman urged the boy on and Ian nodded hesitantly.  
  
“Well,” Ian mumbled and looked at his hands, “when I went online two days ago there was this one member of our community who had announced a big reveal. Beethovens5th, this person calls himself. No one really knows anything about that user, only that he’s gotta be super rich and super criminal because… well, you should see the collection! It’s kinda… yeah, impressive.”  
  
“Are you kidding me?” Dom hissed through gritted teeth. “That guy has our best friend. And you’re talking about  _impressive collections_?”  
  
“Sorry, sorry!” Ian looked up in shock and clutched a hand over his mouth. “I mean… I just wanted to… to tell you what I know… about the user…”  
  
“Go on, Ian,” the CI said and and gestured for him to continue.  
  
“Anyways… suddenly this thread popped up and there were these pictures of… of your friend and… I felt like I knew him from somewhere and then I saw the other users’ comments and they mentioned your band and then I remembered that I know some of your songs and…”  
  
“Cut the fucking crap and get to the point,” Dom growled at him and Chris couldn’t really blame him. He was quickly approaching the limits of his patience, as well, so he didn’t scold Dom for it.  
  
“I… I didn’t know what to do… those pictures, I mean… it was all wrong, but…” he stammered and suddenly fell silent.  
  
“Wait, there is a but? Why is there a but?” Tom asked and quirked his eyebrows in disbelief. “Of course they’re wrong! There cannot be a but!”  
  
“They’re my family,” Ian whispered and Chris had to strain his ears in order to hear his words.  
  
“WHAT?” Dom suddenly shouted and jumped off his seat. “THEY’RE YOUR FUCKING FAMILY? THEY ARE CRIMINALS! ALL OF THEM! YOU’RE PROBABLY A CRIMINAL, TOO!”  
  
“No, I… I never meant to…” Ian tried again but Dom was quicker and a lot louder.  
  
“IS THAT WHY IT’S TAKEN YOU TWO FUCKING DAYS TO GET YOUR ARSE TO THE POLICE STATION? A PART OF  _OUR_ FUCKING FAMILY COULD BE DEAD BY NOW! AND THAT’S ON YOU!”  
  
By then Ian’s face was drained of all colour and his eyes were widened in shock.  
  
“Dom, that’s enough!” Chris grabbed the drummer by the back of his shirt and pulled him down to the sofa again. Of course he wanted to know why it’d taken Ian two fucking days, but he also felt with the boy. It had to be scary to be grilled by four desperate men. He was just a kid, after all. Dom didn’t stay put for more than a mere second, though. He turned around to face Chris, anger twisting his features.  
  
“NO, IT’S NOT ENOUGH! I HAVEN’T EVEN STARTED YET!” The drummer shouted at him and Chris had a hard time keeping himself collected enough not to give his friend a proper dressing-down, “Seriously, Dom. Can’t you see that the boy is scared? We’re pretty lucky that he went to the police, no matter the reason of the delay,” he said, putting a lot of emphasis on the fact that he was trying to stay calm.  
  
“No. No, he obviously can’t or won’t tell us more, because a member of his fucking family is the one who kidnapped Matt. This is… no, I can’t do this right now.”  
  
With that the blonde got up and straightened his shirt. He looked pointedly at the other the two who returned his look incredulously.  
  
“Mate, are you really gonna leave now? Now that we’ve finally got a clue about what’s going on?” Morgan said, disbelief dominating his face.  
  
“I can’t think straight…” Dom replied a little less forcefully and looked almost longingly over his shoulder at the door. As quickly as the outburst had come, Dom's anger had deflated and he took a deep, resigned breath. “Sorry.”  
  
With that he just turned around and left the room unceremoniously. The five men left stared after him for a long moment. Chris was the first to break the silence again. He cleared his throat and looked back at his friends. With a sigh he turned to Ian.  
  
“I’m sorry, he didn’t mean it. He’s just… he’s not handling this too well.”  
  
“That’s okay,” the boy replied quietly. “I… I think he has a point. I should’ve come in earlier, but… I just couldn’t. I didn’t know what to do. It… at first I just didn’t want to believe that anyone around there could be that sick, but… turns out I was wrong.”  
  
“Sick… yeah, that word hits right on target,” Tom snorted bitterly. “That’s what it is, fucking sick.”  
  
“I know… believe me, I know. But… you don’t know the people there. They… that website and its people… they were there for me when no one else was, so… they’re my friends and my family and that’s why… why I hesitated. I knew it was the right thing to go to the police, but… I wasn’t sure whether I could just sell them out. Well, now I did and the police is probably going to go after them and…”  
  
Ian buried his face in his hands and Chris didn’t know if he felt sorry or wanted to shake some sense into the boy. He looked so lost and completely confused.  
  
“Hey, listen,” he eventually started, “of course you could’ve come out with it earlier, but in the end… in the end we’re just relieved that you did it at all.”  
  
The boy nodded slowly and looked up at the bassist, his gratefulness shining in his eyes.  
  
“Okay,” Whitman finally spoke up again. “I think you should explain a little more about what this website is. We need to know as much as possible as to narrow down the profile of the perpetrator.”  
  
That seemed the right thing to say, as the boy sat up straighter. By narrowing it down he could help them find Matt and also keep his friends out of this investigation, Chris figured. The theft of various musical rarities was another thing, though.  
  
Ian took a deep breath. “Okay, so the website works like this…”

___

“Hey, this is Dom. I’m currently not at home so leave a-”  
  
Chris hung up the phone and sighed. He contemplated calling the drummer’s mobile phone again, but then decided against it. He’d tried the landline at least four times in the past hour now, the mobile a dozen more, but Dom still hadn’t picked up at least once.  
  
The bassist worried. Considering the state Dom was in when he’d left the police station, this couldn’t mean anything good. Chris swore quietly as to not alert Kelly and the kids, and cursed himself for emphasis. He shouldn’t have left Dom alone, not when he had looked this pale and… broken. He knew what strong bond his two bandmates shared, stronger than any other of them, and he should have guessed that Dom would take it a lot harder, probably harder than all of them combined.  
  
Matt going missing like this felt like the biggest punch he’d ever received. And he had gotten a lot of beatings at school, thanks to those two twats he called his best friend’s and Matt’s tendency to stir shit for no apparent reason.  
  
Chris felt like the worst friend ever. They should have believed the singer, or at least should have taken him more seriously. Granted, he came up with a lot of shit and his constant paranoia, especially when stressed, was terrible at best. But now Matt was gone and there was nothing they could do. And Chris felt responsible. Yes, he was the youngest, but everyone could attest to him being the most (if not only) grown-up in this band. He felt responsible for his friends, he was a dad through and through and that shone through, even with his friends. So it should be no surprise that he now felt like the biggest disappointment in history, because his friend had needed them -  _him_  - and he had ignored his worries. He should have listened, no matter how silly Matt’s ideas were, and taken care of his friend.  
  
It was too late now, there was nothing he could do for Matt, though, except for praying that he’d be back soon (and wasn’t it interesting he’d started praying now of all times, although he wasn’t the least religious?). But there was still Dom who he could - and should - take care of. And the way it looked, the drummer was in desperate need of it.  
  
Chris quickly grabbed a jacket and walked into the kitchen, where Kelly was cooking dinner for them. She smiled at him when he entered, before they shared a quick kiss.  
  
“I’m gonna head to Dom’s, see how he’s doing,” he told her.  
  
She nodded at him with yet another smile. “Give him my best. Maybe bring him with you, we have enough food for him, as well.”  
  
“I’ll see what I can do.”  
  
Chris grabbed his keys and was nearly out of the house when Kelly called after him. He turned around to see her peeking around the doorframe.  
  
“Everything will be alright, darling.”  
  
He smiled at her wearily. “I hope you’re right.”

___

Chris parked his black Audi outside Dom’s house. He could see the drummer’s car on the other side of the street, and the lights in the house were all on. So, at least Dom was home. He pulled out his mobile and dialed Dom’s number again, waiting for him to pick up. To no avail, the drummer still didn’t answer his phone. Maybe he didn’t want to talk to Chris?  
  
Well, Chris was here now and he wouldn’t go home without at least talking to his bandmate. He climbed out of the car and locked it, before he walked up the steps to the front porch. He knocked twice and rang the doorbell once, and waited patiently for the door to open. After a couple of minutes, he was still waiting.  
  
He sighed before he rang again and listened intently if he could hear any footsteps. There were none, however he could hear faint music coming from inside. Chris frowned, wasn’t that Chopin he was hearing? He was pretty sure he’d heard Matt playing that piece whenever they took a break in the studio, complete with a full history of when and where that piece been composed. Both Dom and Chris had always rolled their eyes and tuned out after approximately 2.7 seconds, because there was no way Matt could have been stopped at that point and, quite frankly, they didn’t really care about the unwanted lectures.  
  
So now, Chris was clearly hearing alarm bells ringing all around. That wasn’t a good sign, was it?  
  
“Dom?” he called out. “Dom, it’s me. Open the door!”  
  
No answer. No movement inside.  
  
“Fine,” the bassist muttered. He pulled out his spare key to let himself in. He really didn’t want to do it, it felt like breaching his friend’s privacy, but under these circumstances, he didn’t see any other way. Maybe he was overreacting and Dom would be shouting at him as soon as he entered the house, but he was a father, and he worried quickly. And what if it was something serious? He would never forgive himself.  
  
Chris slowly opened the door and immediately wrinkled his nose. He was hit with a sudden feeling of nausea as the foul stench of alcohol hit his nostrils. The bassist immediately remembered bad times, a huge sadness settling in the pit of his stomach.  
  
“Dom?” he asked into the house.  
  
There was still no reply, so he carefully walked around, looking for his best mate. There were things scattered across the floor and furniture knocked over, so for a moment, Chris feared that, whoever had taken Matt, had kidnapped Dom as well now. But the deeper he got into the house, the more empty bottles he could find. It seemed like the whole carpet was littered with them, vodka, whiskey, wine. Another cold fear gripped him and Chris swallowed. He wouldn’t…  
  
“Dom?” he called out again before he carefully opened the door to the bathroom.  
  
There the blonde was, half-sitting against the bathtub, half-lying on the bath rug with more bottles around him and an unknown substance that looked a lot like vomit covering most of his shirt. His eyes were closed and he didn’t make a single movement. For all that Chris knew, Dom looked like he was dead.  
  
Fear spiking to pure horror, the taller man ran over to his friend, shaking him slightly. He looked so pale and lifeless, it scared Chris shitless.  
  
Just when the bassist was about to hit Dom, the latter regained consciousness and opened his eyes, a faint smile crossing his lips when he saw Chris.  
  
“Heeeeeeeeey,” he slurred. “Chrissy. Fancy seeing you here.”  
  
“How much did you have to drink?”  
  
The drummer thought for a moment. “Dunno. 1 or 2 beers, maybe? Don’t remember.”  
  
Chris snorted despite himself and helped Dom on his feet, who swayed dangerously from one side to the other.  
If the flat stank already, the blonde smelled a lot like a brewery. Not to mention the disgusting smell of vomit that emanated from his shirt. Chris knew his friend needed a good night's sleep, the lecture had time until tomorrow. But for now, he needed to get him clean.  
  
“Sit,” the taller man instructed and positioned his friend on the toilet seat. He took some towels and got the shower running. “Can you undress yourself?”  
  
Another grin crossed the drummer’s lips. “Pretty plump pick-up line, if you ask me.”  
  
Chris only rolled his eyes and waited for Dom to undress. He clearly had problems opening the buttons of his vomit soaked shirt, though, so it was on the bassist to help him out of the stinking clothes and get him into the shower. He briefly wondered if this empty feeling in his stomach was what his friends and Kelly had felt whenever he was out of his drunk mind.  
  
After the blonde was freshly showered, Chris helped him to the bedroom and carefully put him on the bed and under the covers. He was sure the smaller man was already asleep when a quiet whisper reached him.  
  
“I miss him.”  
  
Chris looked at him for a moment, before he spoke up. “Me too, Dom. Me too.”  
  
He stood there for a few more minutes and listened for anything else coming from Dom, but the drummer was out like a light by now. He shut the lights and quietly closed the bedroom door behind him, before he went back into the living room. Looking at the empty bottles, he heaved a heavy sigh. It was going to be a long night.

___

When Dom woke up all he could feel was pain. His head was killing him and his body felt like a lorry had rolled over him. Twice. He groaned aloud and put his left arm over his eyes, trying to shield them from the sunlight that was streaming through the curtains.  
  
He remembered what had happened last night. How he came home from the police station and just sat in the living room for about half an hour, staring at the wall, before his emotions had gotten the best of him and he had needed to destroy something, anything. His furniture looked like the best victim at the moment.  
  
His anger had ebbed away pretty quickly, though, and everything that had been left was emptiness. Dom felt like he’d already lost his best friend to this… whoever this man was. They couldn’t trace him, they had fucking pictures of Matt, but couldn’t find him. How would they ever get him out of this?  
  
So he had raided his mini-bar and mindlessly drunk everything it had to offer in rapid succession. It didn’t matter, because Matt wasn’t here with him and the pain just wouldn’t go away. The beer had gone first, before he’d moved on to the liquor. He’d left the wine for last, because wine reminded him too much of Matt.  
  
He didn’t remember much from then on, though. He knew he went to the bathroom to take a piss and apparently had passed out there. For how long, he didn’t know.  
  
Dom turned around and faced the nightstand, noting that there were a glass of water and 2 aspirin waiting for him.  
  
Chris.  
  
With a terrible feeling in his stomach (that had nothing to do with his hangover), he swallowed the pills and drank some water.  
  
He remembered Chris’ worried face from last night. His friend must have entered the house at some point, most likely worried about him, and had to find him like  _that_. Dom still remembered the pain and fear he and Matt had gone through whenever they had found Chris pissed up in the corner of a dressing room or hiding in the bathroom. So seeing the drummer like this? It must have been hell for the taller man. He’d have to apologise to him and try to make it up as quickly as possible.  
  
Just when he was about to get out of bed, he could make out noises from downstairs, so he stopped all movement and listened more closely.  
  
“-is terrible, but I didn’t think he’d take it that badly.”  
  
That was definitely Tom. The drummer frowned. What was he doing in his house?  
  
“I don’t know, Tom. But the whole house reeked to high heavens.”  
  
Chris. He’d probably stayed the night and let Tom in, then. He could also make out Morgan’s and Dom A’s voices. Ugh, he didn’t want to face all of them together.  
  
“Thank God, you’ve found him, then. I don’t even want to imagine what could have happened…”  
  
After a short silence that Dom used to get up slowly, Chris spoke up again. “He’d thrown up, Tom. All over himself. I just… He’d pissed himself as well. He looked like he was about to die… or already dead.”  
  
The drummer leant his head against the door. Fuck. He felt completely humiliated. He didn’t remember a single thing from last night, but he didn’t see why Chris would lie about any of it. So that meant that Chris had also washed and dressed him. How old was he, four? He’d made a twat of himself and now his friends were probably laughing their arses off.  
  
Anger rose in Dom. What even gave Chris the right to tell them about it? He could have shut up and kept it to himself. Tell the others that Dom was drunk and had to sleep through it. But no, he had to open his mouth and tell their friends what a complete failure he was.  
  
He threw the door open and stomped down the stairs.  
  
“I don’t think he should be left alone, in his state.”  
  
“Oh, do you now,” Dom sneered.  
  
All eyes turned to him and Dom could  _see_ the pity in their expressions. He snapped.  
  
“Fuck you!”  
  
“Dom, calm dow-”  
  
“No, fuck off, Tom. You can all fuck off. Are you enjoying yourself? Are you having fun? Laugh all you fucking want.”  
  
Chris got up from his position on the sofa. “No one is making fun of you, mate. We just think-”  
  
“You think I’m unable to care for myself. Maybe you’re right. But Matt is fucking gone. Do you get that? Matt’s gone and while you all live your happy life and celebrate it, I’m fucking falling to pieces here.”  
  
“Excuse me?”, Morgan squeaked from the corner of the living room, clearly voicing what everyone else was thinking.  
  
Angry grey eyes turned to him. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. All of you.” He pointed at each of them. “You all pretend everything is alright and plan things. For the band. For us. You’re already planning your life without him, you ungrateful bastards. You would be nowhere without him!”  
  
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Tom exclaimed. “We’re all worried about Matt just as much as you!”  
  
The drummer narrowed his eyes. “Do you? I don’t see you trying to find him. I do see you a lot on your phone, though, flirting with some bimbos.”  
  
“Those are not ‘bimbos’ as you call them, I’m talking to the management to fucking ensure that everything is covered. You know that, you dick.” Tom was about to get up from the sofa as well, when Dom A grabbed his shoulder in a silent request to stay calm.  
  
“He’s always been there for you, all of you, even when you’ve been at your worst and now you’re acting like you don’t give a fuck about him.” Dom continued on as if Tom hadn’t said a single word. “He needs you and no one bats an eye. He asked for help and none of you helped him. He’d still be here if one of you had listened to him, for fuck’s sake.”  
  
Chris moved to stand right in front of the blonde, carefully putting a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. But Dom was having none of it and slapped it away with a “don’t fucking touch me!”.  
  
“Dom. Mate, we have to stay calm or we-”  
  
“Stay calm?!” the blonde interrupted him. “And what? Ignore the fact that this lunatic could do anything to Matt? Is that your solution?”  
  
By now, Dom had reached hysterical levels. His friends first enjoyed his misery and now Dom had to realise that they didn’t care about Matt, they were probably happy about him being gone. God, it hurt. He wanted them to hurt just as much.  
  
He heaved another breath before he asked calmly, “Are you going to ignore all problems now that you cannot go back to the bottle anymore,  _mate_?”  
  
Chris only stared at him in pure shock and horror. Tom, Morgan and Dom A did the same, probably too frozen to say anything.  
  
“I think there was some whiskey left. Just let me have a look”, the drummer continued, while walking towards the mini-bar. “Should be enough for a nice morning session."  
  
The bassist, in turn, finally seemed to have collected himself. He narrowed his eyes and spoke just as calmly. “Careful now, Dom. You’re treading on incredibly thin ice at the moment.”  
  
Dom turned around to face his friend again. For a couple of seconds he only stared him in the eyes, before his lips curled into a grin. A very ugly grin.  
  
“How does Kelly cope with you?”, he asked and took a big metaphorical swing to deal the final blow. “You really did a number on her, didn’t you? Probably pushed her into her own alcoholic-”  
  
Chris’ right fist connected with his face, the sheer force behind the punch leaving him falling backwards on his arse, the left side of his face stinging painfully.  
  
For a moment no one dared to say anything or move, if possible not even breathe.  
  
Dom wiped a hand over his face. He could feel his lip bleeding, so it was no surprise to him that he found a patch of red on his fingers. His cheek was already swelling and only intensified the throbbing pain in his head and the unbearable agony and rage in his heart.  
  
Chris was just about to open his mouth, when Dom swiftly jumped up and ran over to his bandmate, taking him by his collar and pushing him into the wall. He landed one punch, before the taller man grabbed him by the shoulder. Next thing Dom knew, he was back on the ground with Chris crouching above him.  
  
They fought for a few more seconds, until Tom, Morgan and Dom A finally seemed to unfreeze and pull them away from each other.  
  
“Calm down, calm down!” Tom shouted, while he and Dom A pulled Chris over to the sofa. “Both of you!”  
  
Dom shoved off Morgan, who had put it upon himself to restrain the drummer and pull him to the other side of the room. The anger was quickly fading with the adrenaline, leaving him exhausted and feeling weak.  
  
“We all calm now?” Dom A asked and brushed a hand through his hair. When no one responded he figured that was a positive answer. “Alright, this is what we’re gonna do. Morgan, you drive Chris home. Tom, you stay here and no, this is not up for discussion, Dom. I’ll see what I can do about the management.”  
  
Dom watched his friends grab their jackets, while Chris remained sitting on the sofa. He had to look away when he realised just how pale and worn out the bassist looked, knowing fully well that he played a very huge part, if not the whole, in this. The anger he’d felt towards his friend was completely gone now, replaced by sorrow and regret.  
  
Tom handed Chris his jacket with a quiet “Come on, now.” and Chris finally got into motion, slowly getting up from the sofa. He didn’t bother with the jacket, though, and quickly walked towards the door, passing Dom without sparing him another look.  
  
Dom watched him quietly, not finding the right words, or any words, for that matter. How could he?  
The door clicked shut behind Morgan and Tom heaved a sigh.  
  
“You really fucked up, mate.”  
  
“Thanks, Tom,” he snapped and walked upstairs. In his bedroom, he shut the door and let himself fall onto the soft mattress of his bed. Not like he felt the softness, or anything at all for that matter. He felt hollow.  
Dom had been an unfair twat, to all of them. Of course they cared, he knew that. He just felt so raw and alone and guilty with all of this, it was easier to blame his friends and point his anger at them while he couldn't find the man responsible for their personal hell. But what he had said to Chris? Horrible didn’t even cut it. He had clearly overstepped a line and didn't know if Chris would ever forgive him. If he didn't, Dom knew he only had to blame himself.  
  
“Fuck,” he whispered into his pillow and let the tears fall.

___ 

It was already afternoon when Dom felt ready enough to face the world and eventually emerged from his bedroom again. Tom was lounging on the sofa, feet on the coffee table, and watching some weird quiz show with questionably dressed female presenters when he entered the room, dragging his feet a little.

For a moment Dom considered trying to sneak past his friend simply to avoid conversation, but he knew he’d have to face him and the others at some point, so he might as well got it out of the way now.

With a small sigh he sat down next to the brunette quietly and watched one of the female show hosts bouncing around the stage. “Are you watching that because of the show or because of the lightly dressed women?”

“The show, of course. What a stupid question.”

And that was it for their conversation. They stayed silent for a while, both pretending to watch the show. A woman wearing a bikini got called on stage to participate in the next round. Was she wearing a banana on her head? Dom wondered a) who came up with shows like this and b) who watched them. Except the man sitting next to him, of course. And himself right now. Not that he cared for any of the shit shows on TV. Not at the moment, anyway.

“How’s your face?” Tom asked casually just as Dom was about to get up and head to the kitchen.

He shrugged in response. He had forgotten about his bruised jaw and split lip, only feeling the sting now that he got reminded. They still couldn’t keep up with the sting in his heart, though.

Dom took a deep breath before he started with “Listen-”

“You don’t have to explain,” Tom interrupted him immediately. “I don’t need to tell you that you should get your arse to Chris, though.”

Dom nodded and pressed himself further into the sofa. “I’ve been a right bastard to him. Shit, Tom. I’ve really fucked it up.”

“That you have indeed. And you better beg for his forgiveness. You know, crawl along the floor and kiss his feet. Maybe offer to do the dishes or take out the garbage. Wash his dirty underwear. Polish his basses. Cut his toenails.”

Dom rolled his eyes at Tom.

“Oh you wait, I’ve just gotten started. Because you might also want to change Teddi’s nappies or go shopping for Kelly or mow the lawn. I don’t know, man, I bet I could come up with more shit.”

“You’re getting carried away. But yes, that’s basically the plan,” the drummer said while he got up and grabbed his keys. “First he needs to hear me out, though. I need to tell him that I didn’t mean anything I said.”

“You’d better or there will definitely be punches following from me, as well.”

Not knowing what to say to that, Dom opened the door to leave the house, completely having forgotten about his plan to fix something remotely edible to feed his empty stomach with. He _had_ to go to Chris. Now.

Just when he was about to close the door behind himself, he hesitated and asked timidly, “Do you think he’ll forgive me?”

“I don’t know, mate.”

Dom nodded to himself and closed the door quietly. He sighed. Not the answer he had hoped to hear, but of course he knew that there was the possibility of Chris not accepting his apology. But that was no reason he shouldn’t at least try. This was not for him, anyway. He had to do it for Chris.

___

Dom was standing in front of the house of one of his best mates and felt enormously small. It was hard for him to even look at the door without shaking a little. He really had been a downright bastard and Chris had done nothing to deserve it. How he had been able to even _think_ those words in the first place eluded the drummer. Chris had always been there, even last night when Dom had been at his worst, complete with vomit on his shirt and literally sweating alcohol.

He didn’t resent his friend for the serious punch to his face. If anyone deserved to hurt right now, it was definitely him. And the sick bastard who had kidnapped Matt, of course. But Dom wasn't self-absorbed enough to blame all his actions on him just so he wouldn’t have to feel guilty. No, the words had been his and he regretted them with all his heart.

Almost shyly he laid his index finger on the small button that would, should he eventually be brave enough to actually push it, announce his presence to Chris. Or to whoever was at home right now. Deeply afraid of Chris’ reaction, Dom hesitated. What if no one would open up? And what if Chris did open, but slammed the door right in his face again?

“You can do it,” he mumbled to himself. “No, you _have_ to do it.”

He finally flexed his finger and pushed the door bell. It was a little bit embarrassing, but even having managed that little action made him feel a bit better with himself. A very tiny bit.

It didn’t take longer than 30 seconds until the door was pulled open and he was faced with a surprised looking Chris. The bassist composed himself quickly, though, and his face was blank again, if a little cold.

“Hi,” Dom greeted him in a small voice and Chris raised his eyebrows.

“Hi? That’s all you’ve got?” Chris retorted, and the lack of usual warmth in the taller man’s voice felt like a stab to Dom’s heart. It didn’t help that Chris shifted on his legs to block the door a bit more, probably contemplating ending this conversation and shutting Dom out of his house and life completely.

“I… I’m here to… fuck, Chris! I’m so sorry about earlier! I didn’t mean those things, I know they were stupid and hurtful and I completely fucked up! Please, just… let me explain!”

Chris crossed his arms over his chest and sighed, slightly shaking his head. “Dom, I’m not sorry for punching you. You were completely out of line and I’m not even sure I wanna hear those explanations.”

“Please, Chris… I deserved a fist to my face. Hell, I’d gladly take it again, but please, please hear me out! I just want to apologise and you won’t even have to accept it…,” he pleaded desperately. “It’s… it’s just that I can’t live with myself right now, not when there’s this mount of my stupidity between us. You… need to know that I’d never think about you like that. I love you, you’re one of my best mates and I hate myself for having thrown that shit at you! I was… I was mad and scared and desperate, with Matt being... but I never, even for a second, believed a single word of what I said.”

Turning his head and pursing his lips, Chris pointedly did _not_ look at his visibly shaking friend. Dom held his breath, clearly fearing his friend’s decision. Eventually another sigh left the bassist’s mouth and he stepped aside.

“Get your arse in here before anyone catches sight of your misery,” he said, not giving Dom the chance to miss the ironic undertone.

The drummer didn’t care, though. He gave Chris a grateful look and carefully stepped past him as he closed the door again.

Dom followed his friend into the living room. Chris’ shoulders still looked tensed as he settled back down into his armchair and the drummer just couldn’t stop cursing himself inwardly for having done this to him.

He stood next to the sofa for a moment and let his eyes scan the room. The newspaper was lying on the table next to an empty cup and the remote. There were also some of the kids’ toys strewn across the room and Chris’ slippers were under the table. It didn’t look like Chris had changed clothes since he’d gotten back home and that, weirdly enough, made Dom flinch a little.

There could have been many reasons for Chris still being in the clothes he’d been wearing when he’d first gotten to Dom’s place, but only one seemed to stick out. He just didn’t care. Didn’t care that he was still wearing the same jeans and the same shirt he’d put on yesterday before they’d met up at the police station. Dom felt even worse than before.

“Chris, I-” he started, but Chris held up one hand and shook his head.

“Sit down, you look like you’re on the run, Dom,” the bassist said instead and Dom immediately did as he was told.

Chris eyed his bandmate suspiciously, while Dom, on the other hand, looked anywhere but his friend, unable to do so with the shame still burning holes in his stomach. He didn’t know where exactly to start, either. It seemed like he’d used up all his words already, although he _knew_ that it wasn’t enough. Probably never would be. His gaze caught on one of Buster’s toy dinosaurs and he couldn’t help but remember the boy’s last birthday, when they had sat on the floor and Chris had made dinosaur sounds while everyone pretended to be amazed that this little plastic t-rex was alive and roared at them. Buster’s laughter and pure happiness hadn’t diminished for the rest of the day. Dom wished it was still Buster’s birthday and they could sit here and play with toys. He wanted to go back to times like that so dearly.

“So, talk,” Chris pulled him out of his thoughts.

For a moment Dom stayed silent, not really knowing how to start this. He had to be honest, that much was clear. But he was nervous and felt self-conscious. Chris steady look was fixed on him and the pressure in his chest was beginning to get unbearable. Only then did he realise how much he actually _needed_ to talk about this. How much he craved an understanding friend. And Chris sure would understand him, he didn’t doubt that for a single second.

“Chris… I am so incredibly fucking sorry… I was the biggest prick and you… you were there for me. I completely lost it when I heard you talking about me and I know you’re all just worried and, oh God, I didn’t mean it! You’re the strongest person I know.” Tears were already pricking at his eyes and he hated himself for it. This apology was about Chris and not about him seeking comfort or shit like that.

“I know that you’re just as scared as I am and that you of course care about Matt, I was just… I couldn’t cope with… and then…” The drummer almost choked on his quickening breaths, but now that he’d started he couldn’t stop.

“Dom-” the bassist spoke up, but Dom waved his hands around emphatically.

“No, no, let me finish this, please,” he said and tried to steady his erratic breathing.

And so Chris fell silent again.

“I just… I feel so lost. It’s like it’s all my fault because I feel like I could’ve done something to prevent all of this from happening. If I’d only… I didn’t take him seriously when he talked to me about it. He was scared and I didn’t…” He trailed off for a moment. “What if I’d taken him seriously? What if I’d just stayed with him or… I don’t know, offered him to stay at my place for a few days? He would still be here and not God knows where that freak is… is keeping him.”

Chris leant forward at that and his mouth opened in protest, but Dom just spoke over him, not giving his friend any chance to interrupt him. Not now that he was finally admitting all of this out loud. To an actual listener. A friend.

“He tried! He tried to make me see and I dismissed it as his usual paranoia. What kind of friend am I?” Dom pushed his fingers into his unkempt mop of hair and started pulling at the strands in honest desperation. “I hurt you, I fought with all of you, unjustly reproached you and… I left Matt alone when he needed someone…”

“Dom, seriously!” Chris finally managed to interrupt the distressed drummer and successfully shut him up with a serious look. “This, none of this is your fault, okay? We all dismissed Matt’s fear. If this was your fault, then it would be our fault, as well. No one could’ve possibly seen this coming. And Matt wanted to be alone when we came back to London. He didn’t want us around. You know how he can get after touring. He needed his space.”

“Yeah, but-” Dom started again.

“No _but_ , Dom. No. If you’d been at his house when this bastard turned up there… you could both have gotten kidnapped. Or worse. So yes, this might sound horrendously selfish, but I’m glad that you are here and not there. And before you even think about saying that you’d rather be there, just imagine how Matt would feel if you’d gotten abducted, or killed, because of him. No. No, I’m sure he wants you to be safe. If there’s anything I know about him, then it’s that he cares about his friends more than he does for himself.”

Dom nodded. “Maybe you’re right, but…”

With a sigh he started to rummage through one of his jeans pockets and pulled out Matt’s broken necklace. For a moment he kept quiet to collect his thoughts, while he gently caressed the item.

“Sometimes I think I see him on the street. Like, he’s standing on the other side and I just need to run over to him, and everything will be alright. But then I blink and he’s gone. He’s invaded my mind and I can’t help it. He’s _everywhere_. I hear him playing the piano at my place whenever I’m in the kitchen, and you very well know _I don’t even own a bloody piano!_ I feel like I’m going mad, like he’s haunting my every step. The whole situation just fucks with my head. Even the _idea_ of one of us getting harmed because of what we do is frightening and absolutely unreal. But then there were these pictures and I… it was like waking up from a nightmare just to face something far worse. Like a nightmare gone real. Such stuff isn’t supposed to happen! I just can’t stand it that there’s a guy out there who’s _using_ Matt like a fucking _exhibit_! This is so twisted and I can’t even start to get my head around how wrong everything is! He’s not here. He’s alone and helpless and that psychopath can do to him whatever he fucking pleases! I mean… you saw how broken he looked!”

“Dom…” Chris sighed, suddenly seeming broken himself. “Yes… yes, I saw. But Matt is not broken. There’s still fight in him. I refuse to believe anything different. Matt has always been a lot tougher than most people give him credit for.”

Something in the bassist’s voice sounded almost stubborn. Like he wanted his words to be true but wasn’t too sure himself. Dom understood, though, and he didn’t contradict his friend. Not when he needed to believe those words so badly himself.

For a moment they let silence overtake the room, both having to deal with what had been said on their own. Then, eventually, Chris got up from his seat in the armchair, walked around the table, and sat down next to his utterly defeated looking friend. For a split second he hesitated before wrapping an arm around Dom’s shoulder, trying to comfort them both.

“Dom, you know that I actually never really needed an apology, right?” Chris almost whispered, being perfectly aware that Dom had started to lean into him for support. “I know you didn’t mean those things. It’s a difficult situation for all of us and you and Matt have always been incredibly close, so… I should’ve known that you’d have an especially hard time. What I’m trying to say… it’s okay. I’m not mad. Yes, I was hurt. But I understand.”

At that Dom looked up, fear and relief battling for dominance in his eyes. Then he swallowed hard and nodded.

“Thank you.”

Chris managed a small smile before he continued. “Look, there’s still something I need to tell you. I know you want that website to be shut down. And we both know they can’t do it… Right now it’s our only connection to Matt.”

The drummer nodded his quiet understanding.

“There’s still a chance that the press might get wind of this, though. What with all the other members of that community knowing what’s going now. We’ll try to keep this a secret as long as possible, but…”

“The pictures will eventually go viral,” Dom finished the sentence with slumped shoulders. Both men knew that it was true and that there was virtually nothing they could do to prevent this further humiliation of their best friend.

“The boy at the police station, Ian.” Chris broke the settling silence again. “He gave us his log in details so now we can monitor that website ourselves. I gave him my number. He was so scared and I felt sorry for him…”

“Yeah… I really shouldn’t have been such a prick to him… He just wanted to help after all,” Dom sighed quietly.

“No, you shouldn’t have. But he understood that this is a hard time for us. He said he’d call me as soon as something new comes up. He’s a good kid.”

The blonde nodded, but stayed quiet, thinking about his behaviour at the police station. He’d have to call that boy, Ian, and apologise at some point. Chris had a point, they were all stressed out, but it didn’t give him the right to shout at someone who had nothing to do with the hell they were living through. He just happened to get caught up, and did the right thing. Dom _would_ call him, but not today.

He leant his head against Chris’ shoulder and enjoyed the comfort he got from this simple action. When he felt Chris take a deep breath he looked up.

“You know, since all of this has begun,” Chris started and, somehow, Dom knew something he didn’t like was about to follow.

“Yes?”

“When all of this started, I kind of felt like buying a sixpack and just... get smashed. Earlier I was standing in the supermarket with a bottle of vodka and-”

“Fuck, Chris!” Dom swore loudly and immediately jumped up. Almost frantically he reached for the glass that was standing on the coffee table, the transparent liquid making him go into overdrive.

“Please, please don’t tell me… Shit.”

Gently, Chris pulled him back and squeezed his shoulder.

“No, no, don’t worry. It’s okay. It’s only water.”

Just to make sure that Chris was telling the truth, because he _needed_ to see it for himself, Dom first smelled the glass before he took a swig. It was indeed just water, and a heavy but relieved sigh escaped his lips. He would have never forgiven himself if it had been anything else but that.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Shit. For a moment I thought…” Dom whispered and sagged against his friend’s shoulder again. “For a moment I thought that…”

Chris leant his head against the blonde’s.

“I know. I’m sorry. I just… You need to understand how hard this is for me, too. I didn’t buy anything today. Or that day. I can’t. I need to take care of my family. And you. I can’t go back to _that_. But I...”

When the bassist didn’t continue, Dom moved around to face his friend. He could see the bags under Chris’ eyes now, the paleness of his skin and the set of his jaw. His face looked thinner, as well, as if he had lost a couple of pounds on his body.

“I’m so fucking terrified, I feel like I’m falling apart.”

The declaration put Dom in motion. He turned his full body around and slung his arms around Chris’ shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug.

God, he hadn’t known. He had been so busy with himself that he had forgotten that his friends were just as scared. And knowing that Chris, of all people, felt like breaking hurt him to the core. He had thought his friends had abandoned him, but thinking about it now, _Chris_ was probably the one who was all alone. Dom was sure he was the only person in the world who knew about the bassist’s state of mind, because he wouldn’t want to worry Kelly, and he wouldn’t tell Morgan or Dom A about it, most likely not even Tom. Dom hadn’t been there for him. But he was here now.    

Chris returned the hug fiercely and so they sat for a while, holding each other and saying nothing. Because there were no words that could have made this better. Dom’s slight shaking had stopped and Chris’ breathing was evening out again, but the silence lasted.

The bassist had been so honest with him… Dom felt almost guilty for still holding back the whole truth from his friend. Could he tell him without Matt? Did Matt even want Chris to know? What if Matt…

No. No, Matt wasn’t here. Not right now. And Chris of all people deserved to know.

Dom sighed, closed his eyes and eventually pulled back again. Fortunately Chris understood and didn’t linger so things couldn’t get awkward.

“Chris, there is… there’s something more I need to tell you,” Dom started but halted in his speech as Chris fixed his eyes on his. He swallowed. This shouldn’t be so hard, they were all friends and the bassist wouldn’t judge them.

“What is it?” Chris asked almost suspiciously.

The drummer averted his eyes. “Matt and I, we… we had a.. a thing. Going on. You know?” _Please, please let him know_ , Dom added in his head.

Chris furrowed his brows in question, but then Dom could literally see the penny drop, and Chris’ eyes widened in understanding.

“Since when?”

“Since when?” Dom repeated, that having been one of the last questions he’d expected. “Since… since shortly before the album came out, I think.”

“Okay… well, erm…” Chris scratched his neck and finally they looked at each other again. “I don’t really know what to say, to be honest. It’s not like… I mean, it’s not like I suspected or anything, but it’s also not the biggest surprise, I guess…”

“How do you mean?” Now it was Dom’s turn to act a little dumbfounded.

“I mean that you two have always been close and kinda… kinda co-dependent. But… what is this ‘thing’? Are you together?”

“No, it’s not like that. It’s just…” Dom started, but his mouth felt dryer by the minute and he didn’t manage to finish the sentence.

“Just sex then?” Chris offered hesitantly and although Dom felt like a teenager, having _that_ talk with his parents again, he nodded. Needless to say, he wished the ground would just swallow him whole. “How did it happen? Not the gory details, but why… what changed?”

Dom looked at him for a long moment and then lowered his eyes to inspect his fingernails. “I don’t know… I think it was just the whole recording thing. Being in the studio together all the time, it was… it was intense, you know?”

“But hasn’t it always been?” He felt Chris’ eyes searching his face and yes, this definitely was his first sex talk with his parents all over again.

“I guess… But it was different then. Chris, seriously, I have no idea what changed. I just know that it… it happened. The tension got unbearable and we…” He sighed. “We gave in. Granted, it was weird at first. Bad weird. But then it got good weird and in the end it was… just good. I’m still a little surprised we managed to keep it a secret for so long.”

“Couldn’t keep your hands off each other, huh?”

Dom looked up at the unexpectedly teasing tone in Chris’ voice and saw a smile tugging at his friend’s lips.

“Kind of,” he admitted. “It was new and exciting and-”

Dom suddenly stopped in his ramblings as he realised that he’d been about to give his friend a more or less detailed account of his two best friends’ sex life. That would’ve definitely led to some serious brain bleaching. Matt wouldn’t have stopped, though. He would’ve happily scarred the bassist for life just for the fun of watching him cringe at the mental images of them shagging.

 _Shameless little shit_ , Dom smiled to himself. Then a single thought crushed him again. Matt wasn’t here.

Chris must’ve seen Dom’s smile slip because suddenly there was a broad hand squeezing his shoulder comfortingly. His friend understood without needing Dom to spell it out. Of course he did.

“Do you want to stay here?” the bassist asked gently. “With me, Kelly and the kids? I can’t stand the idea of you going back to your empty flat.”

No, he didn’t like the thought, either. He didn’t want to stay alone with his thoughts, with the possibility of him breaking down again. And it would help the bassist, as well, Dom was sure of it. So he nodded with a small smile on his lips.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that. Thank you.”

“Okay.” Chris returned his smile, then continued. “Do you want me to drive you over, pick up some stuff?”

“Nah, it’s cool. I think I can really use that walk right now. And Tom can drive me back, he’s still at my flat. I’m just gonna call him.”

Dom got up from the sofa and Chris followed suit. “Good, I’ll call Kelly then. She’ll be happy to have you over, but I think it’s better to let her know before she gets home.”

“Uhm… Chris?” Dom had stopped in the doorway to the kitchen and looked at Chris, a thought suddenly having occurred to him.

“Yeah?” The bassist looked up from his mobile.

“Could you… could you please not tell anybody about… Matt and me?”

“Wouldn’t dream about it,” Chris replied and actually managed to feign a little shock at the suggestion. “Your secret is safe with me.”

They shared another smile and it said more than words ever could. They were in this together, Dom finally and truly understood. And they would get through this together, too.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is like, super late, and we're sorry about the delay. Real life, Bachelor thesis and gig life wouldn't allow us to sit down properly. BA thesis is done (yay!) and gig life is over (nooo) now, though, so we're back. Thanks for the continous support and we hope you still enjoy this!

_15.08.2013 - London_

“So, can’t we just take them down?”

“One by one, Dom? That’s a neverending task. There’s nothing we can do.”

They were sitting together in Chris’ living room, staring at a tiny laptop screen, and watching helplessly as the pictures of Matt spread over the internet. The speed reminded Dom of a disease. Tumblr was practically full of them, people on Twitter even tweeted their accounts and asked if those pictures were real. Magazines like NME were all over them, spinning stories around the pictures, how Matt Bellamy was _fighting to survive under the terror of the scariest psychopath of 2013_. And if they weren’t reporting about _The Nightmare_ , they were speculating that it was all a huge PR gag for an upcoming album or tour. It was even worse than they had expected, and it made Dom’s skin crawl.

“But there has to be _something_ we can do!”

“We’ve already talked about this,” Chris interjected. “Our hands are tied. Best we can do is ignore it, as much as it pains me. All of us.”

The drummer huffed at that and crossed his arms. No, he couldn’t simply ignore it. Of course they had known this would happen. They _had_ talked about all possible ways this could go and how to deal with it. But seeing it become reality made Dom throw all of their carefully spun plans to the wind. This was Matt people were talking about, and he wouldn’t let anyone talk about him like _that_ , least of all the degrading shit some were posting. A PR gag? How fucking sick thought people they were? It made Dom angrier than he’d probably ever been.

“Ignoring it my arse,” he muttered. “I won’t let anyone say that Matt’s enjoying this. That it’s all a joke.”

Tom closed Twitter down and navigated to another website Dom didn’t know, and, frankly, didn’t care about.

“I know. But what do you expect us to do? Shut down the internet?”

Chris, who was seated next to Dom on the tiny sofa, leaned back and stared out of the window.

“Wouldn’t be such a bad idea right about now,” he grumbled. Then he grabbed the packet of cigarettes that was lying on the coffee table, and wordlessly made an escape to the terrace.

Dom watched him go before he turned his attention back to the black piece of technology. Tom was currently browsing the collectors’ website, probably looking for new information. Because that was all they did nowadays. The police couldn’t give them any leads. There was no new information at all. They were still where they had been days ago, even though they wouldn’t voice it quite like that. Whitman always told them that they were _working on it_ and that _it takes time,_ but Dom was tired of the bullshit. He knew what it meant, and he couldn’t stand the thought of them being helpless any longer.

In a sudden bout of anger he launched forward and grabbed the laptop from the table.

“Hey!” Tom exclaimed.

Quickly, he scrolled down to read the latest post of Beethovens5th again. There was a single new picture attached, but Dom didn’t bother to open it. He’d seen it on Twitter already and didn’t want to see it ever again. But he wanted to read what the kidnapper had to say. He wanted to understand how someone could get pure joy from abducting and showcasing a person like this.

He wanted to understand why this monster wanted to reduce Matt to an item meant for collecting purpose.

But all the reading only helped to intensify his anger and pain. There was nothing to understand. This guy was sick and deranged, and the hardest punishment on the planet wouldn’t be enough for him. But Dom would make sure it would be as painful as possible.

Furiously he smashed his hand on the keyboard and pressed the arrow down button to get to the _post reply_ button.

Tom peered at the screen from the side. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m gonna fucking give this collector guy a piece of my mind.”

“And what do you think that would achieve?”

Nothing. He knew that. But he had to let this guy know that they’d find him, that he couldn’t just go around and spread pictures of Matt, and still think he’d get away with it. Dom would break every single bone in his body and make him regret ever breathing a single bit of air in Matt’s vicinity.

“Doesn’t matter. If you want to sit around, please do so. I’ll find him and kill him,” he snarled and started to type furiously, before Tom reached out and pulled the laptop from his grasp. “Hey! Give that back!”

“No, Dom. That’s enough of your bullshit for today.”

“I give you fucking bullshit, Tom. I swear to God-”

“No, you shut up, now,” the photographer interrupted him and pressed Dom’s shoulder into the sofa. “I’ve had it with you.”

Dom growled low at his friend, ready to start another fight if he had to. Instead, however, Tom got up and pulled at his own hair, clearly trying to reign in his anger.

“You know what, Dom. Do whatever the fuck you want,” he said way too calmly for their current situation. “Write that damn comment if you must. You can even go out at night and run through the streets if that helps. Yes, we fucking know about it. Wallow in your damn self-pity. Hell, go out and shout it from the rooftops. That will surely improve the whole ‘I want people to stop talking about it’ business, because giving them new fuel always helps with that. Stop being a stupid headless chicken and start to _think_!”

By now, Chris had stuck his head back inside to see what was going on, ready to jump in and defuse the situation if he had to. Dom looked at him for a moment before his eyes returned to Tom’s hard stare. The drummer narrowed his eyes, debating what he should say to that.

“At least I’m trying, unlike you,” was the only reply he could come up with that didn’t involve another huge fight. He didn’t want to fight anymore. “I’m going out now and try to find him. Like a stupid _headless_ chicken.”

With that, he quickly made his way out of the house, not waiting for anyone to utter another word.

___

Instead of running around town, the blonde had decided to plant himself in a small booth in the back of a pub around the corner. He didn’t want to get roaringly drunk, not this time, but he wanted his peace and quiet. And okay, maybe he did want to get one drink.

He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there, but when he looked up, he saw a familiar face approaching his table.

“Should have known you went to O’Neill’s,” Kelly said, before she sat down next to Dom and placed two glasses of booze in front of them.

“What do you want?” Dom grumbled.

“I was looking for you.”

“What a surprise. Have the hounds sent you? You can tell them that I won’t do any stupid shit tonight, they can put their worries to rest.” He didn’t need another babysitter on his trail.

She sighed. “I was looking for you because I wanted to make sure that you’re okay.”

“I’m not going to pull another stunt like last time.”

“I know. I just want to make sure that you’re not alone in case you need someone to talk to. Because I know how hard all of this is on you.”

He stared at the content of his glass intently, just to avoid looking in her pitying eyes.

“Dom,” she carefully laid her hand on his. “We will find him. I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

She sighed. “You know I don’t. The police are doing what they can, even if you don’t believe so right now. It won’t be long until you two are re-united and can cuddle or do whatever R rated things you’re doing in your freetime.”

At that, Dom froze. Fuck, she knew. He grabbed his glass forcefully and tried to gulp down some of the whiskey to ease the dryness in this throat. Braving a glance at Kelly, he saw her watching him expectantly, as if to gauge his reaction.

“Shit. Chris said...” he swallowed once, twice before he averted his eyes. “Chris promised not to say anything. I’m sorry, I wanted to tell you, but Matt and I have never talked about it and now there wasn’t any time and then-”

“Dom, Dom, calm down,” she interrupted him and put her hand on his cheek. “Darling, it’s okay.”

Tentatively, the drummer turned to face her. Kelly simply smiled at him, which, somehow, calmed Dom more than anything else had these past days.

“Chris didn’t have to say anything. It’s in your eyes.”

“My eyes?”, the blonde asked.

She simply shrugged. “The boys might be oblivious, but female intuition and motherly instinct can’t be fooled.” She actually grinned at that. “I won’t tell a soul. And I won’t tell anybody about your other little secret, either.”

Dom frowned at that. What little secret? “What do you mean?”

“You’ll figure it out, darling.” With that, she leaned back and sipped on her own glass of whiskey.

“Should you even drink that?” Dom asked her.

Kelly simply shrugged in answer and took another sip.

They stayed like that for a while, with Dom being lost in thought and Kelly letting him be. At some point, Dom couldn’t stand the silence anymore, though. He also wanted to ask her about Chris desperately, but didn’t know how she would react. He didn’t want to remind her of anything bad. But at the same time…

“Can I… ask you something?”

She nodded.

“Sure, what is it?”

“When Chris was… not well,” the drummer tried to find the right words, not wanting to upset her.

By the softening of her features, he knew that she knew exactly what he was talking about, and Dom was thankful that he didn’t have to spell it out.

“What about it?”

“Did you know everything would be okay one day?”

“Of course,” she replied immediately and Dom wondered if it was the truth. Looking into her eyes and having known her for almost 15 years, however, told him that it was indeed nothing but the truth. And he admired her for her iron will and trust in one of his best friends.

“But… How?”

At that, she simply smiled.

“I trusted him. I knew he’d come back to me,” then she looked at the drummer again. “And so will Matt to you.”

Dom didn’t know why, but he believed her.

“Damn, woman!” he exclaimed. “How do you do that? You actually make me believe that.”

“What can I say? I’m just that good.”

They shared a giggle before they resumed their silence, both drinking the remainings of their alcohol.

“I’m sorry I’ve been such an arse,” Dom whispered.

“You’ve never been an arse, really.”

“But I _have_ been ever since this whole mess started,” the blonde protested. “I’ve treated you all like dirt, and that wasn’t fair of me.”

Kelly was about to open her mouth when Dom raised a hand to silence her and continued.

“You’ve been so nice to me. You let me live with you and take care of me, and yet, I’ve never done anything for you. I didn’t even say _thank you_. So, yeah, thank you. Thank you for everything you do.”

She smiled at him. “You’re family, Dom. You’d do exactly the same for any of us.”

He nodded vehemently at that. Yes, he would. He’d never abandon anyone of his friends, and none of them would, either. But that didn’t mean that he could just take his friends’ help for granted.

“You’re under a lot of stress, you’re worried. And even though you have your moments, you’re doing fine. Everyone’s on edge, you’re bound to fight. You guys fight all the time, anyway.”

“Maybe you’re right. I just… I didn’t want to…“ He sighed and his shoulders slumped visibly. “I just can’t sit on my arse and do nothing.”

“I know,” Kelly said and gently rubbed the drummer’s forearm. “But there’s no point in running around headlessly. And what if you had actually posted that comment and the kidnapper read it? He could have gotten angry and punish Matt for it.”

At that, Dom paled visibly. He hadn’t even thought about the possibility, he had just wanted to vent his anger. He was foolish. He was an idiot.   

“Oh, Dom,” Kelly said when she saw his panicked look. She punched his shoulder softly, before she gave him a fierce hug. “Let’s go back, yeah? I’m sure the others are waiting.”

Dom simply nodded and they both got up. He needed to apologise. “Just let me pay the drinks,” he fumbled for his wallet and added “and yes, that means yours as well”, when she pulled out a note.

___

Just as Kelly had suspected, they found Tom and Chris sitting in the living room, waiting for their return. As soon as Dom entered the room, he saw Tom jumping up and walking over to him. Fully expecting another tongue lashing or, worse, a punch to the face, he flinched reflexively. Instead, though, Tom laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it affectionately.

“‘m sorry,” the brunette whispered.

Dom shook his head. “No. No, it’s okay. _I_ am sorry. I keep being a burden to all of you,” he turned to Chris and nodded at him. “To all of you. I’ll try harder from now on, I promise.”

It seemed like Tom was about to say something to that, but then thought differently. His mouth opened and closed, before he frowned. Then, without warning, he broke into uncontrollable laughter.

“The fuck?” To say Dom was confused was an understatement. Had his friend lost the plot?

“Oh my God, Dom!” the photographer exclaimed. “Don’t be such a pussy!”

„I’m not a pussy,“ the blonde protested. “I mean it.”

“I know you do. But really. That was very cheesy.”

Dom huffed. Fine, maybe it was a bit cheesy, but it was the truth. He needed to make them understand that he had understood. By the teasing tone of his friend, though, he knew that everything was forgiven already. Still, he’d try his damn best to be calmer from now on, no matter how it looked inside him. It wasn’t their fault things had turned out like this, and he couldn’t always count on their forgiveness. Hell, he couldn’t even be sure they’d forgiven him _all_ the fuck-ups he’d done in life so far. He really had the best friends in the whole world.

“So, can we move on now and decide on what we’re gonna do? Except throwing death threats around a forum, that is.” Tom sat down on the sofa again and motioned for Dom to do the same.

The drummer looked at Chris first, as if asking for confirmation that, indeed, the little crisis was over. When he received an encouraging nod in return, he sat down and gingerly looked at the laptop screen. There he saw the Muse website being opened with a new entry halfway typed out.

“What’s that?” he asked a little stupidly.

“An announcement,” Chris explained. “We thought it might be a good idea to do an official one. You know, to counter all the spreading rumours.”

Tom nodded. “We don’t want to say much about it. Just that it’s true Matt’s missing and that we ask for some privacy.”

“We believe that a lot of our fans will understand and stop posting these pictures. Maybe take them down. We won’t be able to eliminate them from the internet completely, but maybe we can reduce them this way.”

A short silence followed in which Dom read through the announcement they’d written out so far. At last, he nodded. “That’s looking good. Yeah, I like it.”

The other two smiled at him, clearly relieved they were all in the same boat again.

“I’m gonna finish this quick,” Tom said and started typing immediately. “Then we can decide on our next steps, alright?”

___

 

_16.08.2013 - London_

True to his word, Dom tried to be better with his outbursts and behaviour towards the people around him. After they had posted the announcement, they had received a lot of fanmail and well-wishes, and Dom was thankful for that. It felt good knowing that their fans were there, in some form, to have their backs. He was going to post a quick thank you note later when he was home because they truly deserved his thanks.

At the moment, however, Dom was at the Sainsbury’s around the corner to buy ingredients for tonight’s dinner. After Kelly had played mum for him since he’d taken over the spare bedroom, today was going to be different. He’d thrown the Wolstenholmes out of their own house and told them to have a wonderful day at the zoo with the kids. In the meantime he had cleaned the whole house before going out for grocery shopping. Tonight he’d cook them a wonderful meal and thank them properly for all the hardships they’d gone through with him since the beginning of August.  

He turned into the next aisle and checked his grocery list again. Just some minor things were left, like a pack of Ava’s favourite crackers. Then he could head home and start on the dinner preparations.

He was just about to grab a package of pasta, when someone behind him called his name. Dom turned around to see Suzanne, the girl from the restaurant, walking over to him.

“Hello, Mr. Howard,” she said shyly.

Dom smiled at her and wondered briefly how often they’d have to tell her to call them by their first names.

“How are you? Oh God, that was a terrible question, wasn’t it?” she babbled. “I mean, I know you’re not feeling well because of the situation and I didn’t imply that everything is fine and that you’re happy or anything. I mean you look happy- no! I mean, you look fine and I just- Oh God, sorry, that is coming out wrong, I just wanted to-“

“It’s okay,” the drummer interrupted her and took her hands in his own. “It’s alright, don’t worry. I’m okay, considering the situation. I’m doing okay. How are you?”

She seemed to ponder on his words for a moment before she relaxed and weakly squeezed his hands. “I’m fine. Just a lot of work. Nothing important.”

“I hope the café is doing okay? Reporters not bothering you?”

Suzanne shrugged. “It could be worse. There are a couple of people coming in and asking questions, and some try to sneak into the kitchen to spy on the staff to eavesdrop, but it’s bearable.”

Dom felt sorry for these people. It wasn’t their fault that all of this had happened, and just because they frequented the café meant that the media thought there could be something to talk about. He wouldn’t be surprised if they made up stories, just to spew some shit, just to have a story. Because apparently, it didn’t matter what was real and what not, as long as they could keep the story of the missing singer alive.

“I’m sorry you have to go through this.”

“Oh, please don’t worry. You’re going through so much worse! I hope Mr. Bellamy is alright and that he’ll be back soon,” she clasped a hand over her mouth before she quietly continued. “I’m sorry, I don’t know if you even want to talk about it.”

“It’s fine,” Dom said, once again. “And I hope so, too.”

“Are there any news? I only know about things that are on the news, but I don’t really trust them…”

He sighed. “No, nothing. It’s like he’s on another planet. They can’t track the abductor, for whatever reason I still don’t understand completely.”

“Do they know where the pictures are coming from?” she asked.

For a moment, Dom considered telling her the truth, that yes, they knew about the messageboard and that the person was showcasing his stolen goods, which also included his best friend. But they had agreed not to spill anything that wasn’t out there already. It didn’t matter that he knew Suzanne wouldn’t tell a soul. He wanted to keep that promise. You never knew who you _could_ trust in the end. So he lied to her, just like he did to everyone else but Chris, Tom and their family.

“No. They’ve appeared out of nowhere, it seems. But they will find out, I’m sure.”

Suzanne frowned for a moment. Then she came closer and hugged him tightly. For a moment, Dom froze before he relaxed and hugged her back.

“I’m sorry you’re going through this, Dominic,” she said, and Dom noted that it was the first time she’d used his first name. “I hope you’ll get him back very soon.”

“Thank you,” he whispered quietly and leaned into her. It felt good to be comforted. Even though she was so young, she seemed to have this loving aura about her. Dom was sure she’d become a great mother in the future.

Dom didn’t realise that he had closed his eyes, but when he opened them he saw Suzanne smiling at him. She thumbed his cheek for a moment.

“I’m sure it will be alright,” she assured him, before she grabbed her shopping basket. “I have to go, but I will keep you guys in my thoughts. When all of this is over, come to the café. Everything will be on me. Even Mr. Bellamy’s hot chocolate.”

She winked at him and Dom looked completely dumbstruck. Suzanne was so nice to him, to them. He didn’t know how he deserved this kindness.

Dom whispered a shy “thank you” before they said their goodbyes and he went back to his shopping list.

___

 

_???_

“Matthew, just relax. You know that you can’t play like this, all shaking with tension.”

The guy _had_ to be kidding. He had to! How couldn’t he know that he was beyond uncomfortable? No, scratch that, he was scared to death. Of course he was, how wouldn’t he be? Trapped in a room that was usually pitch black, having his friends threatened if he didn’t act right, and no sense of time whatever. And God, he was hungry. The singer had eventually caved in, plagued by stomach cramps and sudden feelings of faintness. But he was still trying to keep it to a minimum. Slow poisoning was still better than dying of an overdose. The foot had tasted clean, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything and he had no reason to trust the guy.

“Matthew! Sit up straighter, otherwise people will think you are a hunchback?”

The Voice was thick with accusation and Matt instinctively straightened up. It had become somewhat normal to obey as the wellbeing of his friends seemed to depend on it.

“That’s more like it. Now concentrate. I know you can play better than that.”

His fingers felt numb as he dragged them across the keys and the notes he forced out of the ancient instrument sounded dull to him. These past few days (or however long he’d been here now) had taught him to treat music with a certain dread. He couldn’t just sit down at the keyboard and let the melody take over his mind. He was too conscious of himself, too aware of his predicament, and suddenly every note he played felt like a perversion of what had once been his passion and salvation.

Every once in a while a blinding flash illuminated the periphery of his vision, but he’d learnt to ignore the camera. It hadn’t taken him too long, considering that he’d lived half his life with cameras being shoved into his face wherever he went. He didn’t know where those pictures went, just that they went _somewhere_. There was no energy left in him to actually give a shit about that, though, and so instead he just hoped that his friends didn’t have to see them. The singer had never seen any of the pictures, but he probably looked like a satire of himself in them. At least that was what he felt like. A satire of a man, perverting his own music.

Admittedly, he wasn’t always thinking this negatively. Sometimes, when he was curled up under the thin blanket, surrounded by darkness, he allowed himself to hope for a positive outcome. He imagined how he would be reunited with his friends and family and how everything would be okay again. Those thoughts, thought quietly in his solitary confinement of sorts, were what kept him going.

Very often Matt’s thoughts wandered when he was on the verge of falling asleep and those were the moments when he could dwell on memories without letting them consume him. Random little memories of Buster’s last birthday party, of nights spent discussing new song ideas over the phone with Dom who always listened to him without giving away his tiredness, of the after show adrenaline pumping through their veins and connecting them in way that was impossible to imagine for someone who hadn’t experienced it, and of feeling his best friend -

But no, he never allowed himself to go that far. He knew those memories could very well break him and the backlash of that would be fatal. So he had to keep going and nurse his sanity with these little instances of hope. There was nothing else he could do to keep his friends and himself safe.

“Yes, yes, continue like that, it’s perfect!”

Suddenly The Voice sounded almost euphoric and it was that moment when Matt realised that he had actually started to play properly. The music didn’t mean anything to him, but at least it sounded decent.

“Perfect, Matthew, I knew you could do it!”

A little wave of anger flooded him then. Of course he could do it. Everybody knew he could. The circumstances were what slowed his hands down and kept his heart out of the process. He’d already played whole concerts without his heart being fully in it, for fuck sake. And who could blame him? Sometimes he just didn’t feel like it due to emotional stress or whatever was occupying his mind at the time. That didn’t mean that he couldn’t do his job, though.

“Nah, nah, you look like you want to kill someone. Relax, Matthew. You are doing great.”

“Sounds about right,” he mumbled to himself, but kept playing and tried to regain his composure.

This place was a completely different universe and he understood that he had to obey its rules. He didn’t have to like it, though.

A few minutes later the speakers cracked again and went dead. He knew what that meant. Personal time with his ‘host’. True to his expectations the door opened and the bulky guy came in, his face a prime example of forced calmness. No word was uttered between them and Matt’s breath caught in his throat as the guy bent down next to the bench and untied his feet.

“Here, this is for you,” he grumbled and handed Matt a thin stack of papers.

“What the…” He looked down at it and realised that it was sheet music. “What the hell is this?” The singer looked back up to his kidnapper and vaguely indicated the sheets. They felt, looked, and smelled pretty old. His thumb carefully caressed the uppermost paper while still watching the guy. But he left without another word.

Only seconds after the door had closed again, the speakers cracked back on. Matt didn’t look up, though. His attention was completely fixed on the sheet music now. It couldn’t be. It simply couldn’t. But it was.

“Matthew, do you realise what you are holding there?” The Voice seemed to be proud. Proud! What the hell?

“It’s Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in G minor, Opus 23, number 5,” he breathed almost to himself.

“Very good,” The Voice chuckled. “Very good. You have really done your homework.”

“Is this the fucking original? It’s fucking old and in ink! What the hell are you, a consummate thief? Mafia?” Despite his predicament Matt couldn’t believe what he was holding in his hands.

“I am no such thing, no. I’m just influential as I have already told you more than once. And to answer your first question, it is indeed the original.” Smug. There was no other word to describe it. The Voice sounded beyond smug.

“And what are you giving me this for?”

“It is a present because you were a really good boy today. I know you love Rachmaninoff and I want you to have something nice. I feel like there is no one who could appreciate this more than you and me.”

Oh God. Now he felt dirty. Good boy? Seriously? And no no no, he didn’t want to have anything in common with that psycho. Truth be told, he was the tiniest bit amazed by the sheets. But, at the same time and considering the overall situation, he couldn’t give two fucks about it. By now he knew better than to voice his thoughts, though. He had taken more than one beating over the past few days. Sometimes he even wondered whether the guy had a split personality given the confusingly mixed signals he received.

So instead he asked, “Is that why you untied me?”

“Yes. I think we are over the bit where you refuse to do as I say. I trust you to do the right thing, Matthew.”

And there was the threatening again. Matt let out a sigh and nodded reluctantly. If it kept his friends safe, he would do “the right thing” for as long as he had to. God knew what would happen after that.

“Okay Matthew, I think that is enough for today. I am going to leave you alone with your gift now. Hopefully you can find the same joy in it that you bring to me.”

Oh God… seriously? He nodded quietly, though, trying very hard to suppress the impending outburst of complete rage. Joy? Fucking joy? But oh, he knew better than to give in to the urge. He wanted to shout and give vent to his frustration, his helplessness, and the paralysis that had taken reign over his mind. But he knew it would do him no good. Quite the contrary.

The speakers went dead, but to his utter surprise the lights stayed on this time. Maybe the guy really wanted to give him some time to read the sheets. The thing was, though, that he absolutely _didn’t_ feel like it. So, just for the sake of appearances, Matt got up from the bench and took the sheets with him as he went over to the bed. He laid them down carefully, the delicate paper rustling between his fingers.

Now he was facing a big problem (apart from the obvious one, of course). On the one hand he really wanted to sleep. His head felt just as befuddled as it had ever since his arrival. He was more tired than he cared to admit, even to himself, and his body felt so heavy that he was a little surprised he hadn’t already sunken into the ground. But on the other hand going to bed with the lights on also meant stripping down in front of a mirror that was basically a window to what was his miserable life right now. It hadn’t taken him too long to figure that one out. Fucking one-way mirror. And a striptease for his psychopath kidnapper wasn’t something he was particularly keen on doing.

With a deep sigh he put his knee on the mattress and heaved himself onto the bedsheets. He crawled over to the headboard, rested his back against the wall and took the sheets from the pillow next to him. It was obvious that it was expected of him to appreciate this gift, so he tried his best to look awed.

Matt felt slightly self-conscious about his little act because he had no idea whether he was still being watched or not. Fucking. One-way. Mirror! It was a bit like Nineteen Eighty-Four, he thought to himself. Big Brother was definitely watching him. Or at least he had the possibility of doing so whenever he pleased.

With another heavy breath he let his head fall back against the wall and closed his eyes. Quietly he began to hum Rachmaninoff’s prelude and fingered the edges of the papers absentmindedly, just for the sake of appearing to be occupied with them. But in his mind he went somewhere completely different.

Dom was there in his thoughts, and Chris and Tom and Morgan and Kelly and Dom A and his family and other friends and basically everyone he cared about. Everyone he had to be strong for. They were laughing and joking around, making fun of each other and basically being their usual selves.

There were no concrete surroundings in Matt’s imagination. He didn’t need that. To imagine a specific place that felt like home wasn’t only impossible for him, it was also unnecessary. With his friends at his side, every place could be home. A fancy hotel room in Tokyo just as much as his house in London or the pier in Teignmouth. It didn’t matter.

Dom’s smile was by far the brightest of them all. The blonde came up to him and put his arm around his shoulders, squeezing the smaller man to his side. Together they watched their friends contently for some time. Somehow it seemed as if they were looking at a replay of their life together. Every face was telling another story.

There was the moment when they’d first met Chris in the bassist’s warm eyes, the first time they’d all gotten high together in the corner of Tom’s cheeky grin, all the happy news about yet another Wolstenholme baby in Kelly’s dimpled cheeks.

“You’re missing out, mate,” Dom whispered close to his ear, the sad smile obvious in his voice.

With a wild mixture of anxiety and anticipation fluttering in his stomach, Matt turned to see what story Dom’s face held for him. Deep down he knew exactly what he was hoping for. But instead of the shining grey he had been expecting, Matt was suddenly faced with a black, blank stare that threatened to swallow him whole. The lazy arm around his shoulders tightened its grip.   

Dom was gone. Everyone was gone. Matt was alone, facing a monster, the devil incarnate.

His whole body was frozen in shock, limbs dangling uselessly in the air, as the monster’s hands closed around his throat and lifted him off the ground. Suddenly he remembered. He knew this part already, had lived through it at least a dozen times before. Maybe more.

Next he would fall to the floor, choking as his larynx would still protest against the previously unbearable pressure. There would be more pain, more beatings, more blood, and more threats. Not all of it would be _his_ blood, though. The monster would talk about how it’d hurt his friends and how they’d sacrificed themselves in their fruitless attempts at saving him. It would tell him how all of it was his fault, that he had allowed them to die for him. Then the fingers would wrap themselves around his throat again, squeezing until his larynx would eventually give way to the pressure. Then he would black out.

They say you cannot die in your dreams. Matt was feeling like he just disproved them.

He wrenched his eyes open and sat up straight in less than a second after having been woken by his own suffocated cry. Instinctively he put his hands to his neck, checking his throat almost protectively. There were no bruises. Obviously, dreams didn’t leave damage like that. But the pain remained. And it felt far too real. As he covered his eyes with his hands and tried to steady his frantic breathing, he realised two things. One, the lights had been turned off. Two, his cheeks were wet with tears.

Shit, shit, shit. His heart was still pounding furiously against his ribs, almost as if it was trying to break free. The sheet music must have had slipped off the bed during his restless episode. At least that’s what he thought as he couldn’t find it on the bed. He didn’t give a single flying fuck, though. Too fresh were the memories of his dream, the images of his dead friends and the monster’s face forever burnt into his brain.

Like a beaten dog, he curled up on his side, clutching the pillow tightly with both hands.

“Dom,” he whispered quietly into the dark, his voice breaking on a dry sob.


	7. Chapter 7

_17.08.2013 - London_

_“Dom!”_

_Dom looked around frantically. He couldn’t make out where his best friend’s voice had come from, it must have been somewhere close. But where?_

_“Dom!” He heard it again, this time more pained. He had to find Matt. He had to find him now and bring him home. “Please! Oh god, help me. Help me, Dom!”_

_“Matt! Where are you?” he finally shouted back and waited for a reply. When none came, he ran around aimlessly, hoping to find any sign of the singer. Just when he was about to lose hope, he saw a light shining to his right. Not wasting any more time, the blonde sprinted in that direction, two figures coming into his view. He could make out a clearly injured Matt lying on the floor and someone towering above him, holding something that looked suspiciously like a knife. So close, so close, so close. Picking up speed, he had nearly reached his friend when he ran into something and flopped back on his arse. When the blonde got back up and inspected the invisible wall closer he realised that it was glass that separated him from the other two men._

_“Matt!” He shouted again and punched the divider as hard as he could. It seemed as if neither of the two could hear Dom, as if the glass wall divided them into 2 different worlds, but Dom could hear just fine. And oh god, he wished he didn’t have to, because Matt was crying out his name over and over again, begging him to help him, save him. When the knife cut into the back of his right hand and then sliced up to his wrist, Matt screamed and Dom couldn’t help but scream with him._

_The blond walked away from the glass to gain some momentum and throw himself against the wall. After trying it twice, he shouted in frustration. The material wouldn’t budge. “Don’t worry, Matt. I’m coming. Just hang on.”_

_Another cry from Matt when the dark man plunged the knife into his shoulder spurred Dom on to give it another try. He walked back and ran towards the glass, throwing his whole weight and determination against it. He fully expected to bounce off again, but this time he managed to destroy the glass and jump through. Quickly getting back to his feet, he ran over to Matt who was alone by now, lying on his side and whimpering quietly. The blonde turned him around carefully, whispering “Matt, I’m here now…” before stroking the singer’s cheek._

_“Dom…”_

_He didn’t expect Matt to turn away from him then, and he didn’t expect him to weakly slap away his hand either._

_“I’m so sorry,” he whispered before he tried to take Matt in his arms again._

_The singer, however, only had a cold stare left for his band mate. “You left me.”_

_“What?”_

_“You left me alone,” the brunette spat with all the force he could muster in his condition. “You left me and didn’t care.”_

_“No, no, no,” Dom assured him quickly. “Matt, I swear, I did everything I could.”_

_“You have forgotten about me.”_

_There seemed to be so much blood all of sudden. Everywhere._

_“Matt, no. I could never forget you. No.”_

_Matt seemed to get weaker, but his words still bore into Dom like a knife to the heart. “You’ve forgotten about me. You left me here to die. I just wanted to go home…”_

_More blood. Dom held Matt’s hand, promising “No, no, no, I love you. I love you so much,” until Matt closed his eyes and whispered “I hate you”._

Dom shot up in his bed, nearly falling out of it. He blinked frantically, but he could only see darkness, which intensified his panic. He felt around the bed, trying to locate Matt’s body, until his memory finally caught up with him. A nightmare.

The blonde let himself fall back into the pillows and stared at the ceiling. A fucking nightmare. He was dreaming about Matt constantly, even before his friend had gotten abducted, but since then it was happening a lot more frequently. At first the dreams were basically the same they had always been; he was somewhere together with Matt, usually in bed or lying in the grass, and then Matt would ask him for something and when Dom turned around again, the brunette was gone.

For the last couple of days, however, the dreams always turned into a massacre. Dom would find Matt bruised and bleeding somewhere, and usually a dark figure would stand over the two of them, laughing loudly and mocking them.

But he had never dreamed about Matt accusing him of forgetting his best friend. Was his subconscious telling him something? It was true that he’d thought less about Matt since his talk with Kelly. He hadn’t had any breakdown since then, either.

Instinctively, he went for his lucky charm, the shark tooth necklace, but he found it missing from his neck. Dom felt around the bed frantically, trying to locate the missing piece of jewellery, but it wasn’t there. For a quick moment, he panicked. He had never taken the necklace off since he owned it. It was a present from Matt, so he cherished it more than anything else, never wanting it out of his sight. Especially because Matt said it was his very special lucky charm. Who’d let go of luck, anyway?

But now he had to find it gone and he wondered when he’d lost it. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen it. Had it been yesterday? Last week? He knew he had touched it the first time they they’d been at the police station, but the time between that and now was blank. Fuck.

Dom felt tears springing to his eyes and he cursed himself for it. He wasn’t a child, so losing something like that shouldn’t sting that much. But it was from _Matt_ , and who knew if it had been the last present he’d ever get from the singer?

The thought immediately brought him back to his dream. Matt dying. Matt telling him that Dom had forgotten about him. He shook his head immediately. No.

Just because he was feeling better didn’t mean he was forgetting the singer. He could never do that. The drummer needed to remind himself that he was allowed to feel better. He wouldn’t say he was allowed to be happy, because he could never be happy without Matt. Matt was his everything, after all. It was true what he’d said in his nightmare. A life without the tiny brunette was a life not worth living. He did love Matt. With all his heart. Not just the want he’d always felt, but true, unconditional love.

Thinking about it now, Dom should have realised that a lot sooner. If he hadn’t felt like a weight was crushing him right in this moment, he would have slapped himself. God, he had been so blind.

___

All this thinking was making him restless. He didn’t feel like falling asleep any time soon. In fact, he felt like he was suffocating, the bed feeling too uncomfortable around him now.

Dom slowly got up and went over to the window. He watched the stars for a moment, trying to remember what hope felt like, before he sighed and turned to the door. All this brooding didn’t help his situation, and he needed something to drink badly. His throat felt dry, as if he had screamed his lungs out. He wondered if he had indeed been screaming throughout his nightmare, but he discarded that thought quickly. If he had done that, he was sure that he’d have either Chris or Kelly standing in his room by now. As they weren’t, he guessed his mind and body were just playing tricks on him.

It was dark when Dom had made his way downstairs, but he could still make out the tall figure that was sitting at the kitchen table. When the headlights of some passing car illuminated part of the room, he could also see that it was not any person sitting there, but Chris, apparently deeply in thought as he still hadn’t acknowledged Dom’s presence.

“You awake?” Dom knew it was a stupid question, but it was the only one that came to his mind so he could alert his friend to his presence.

He saw the silhouette twitch in surprise before he heard Chris clear his throat.

“Yeah, couldn’t sleep,” he whispered. “You?”

“Same. Mind if I sit with you for a while?”

“No. No, not at all. You can turn on the lights if you want.”

Turning on the lights would definitely help with navigating through the kitchen, he hadn’t been living here long enough to be able to do it with his eyes closed. But turning on the lights would also mean that he had to look at his friend’s face and vice versa. He was sure Chris would see in his eyes that something was bothering him and ask about it. It wasn’t like Dom didn’t want to talk about it, somehow he really did, at least about parts of it. But at the moment he felt too vulnerable, and he didn’t really want his friend to read him like an open book, not this time, when he was still figuring some things out himself.

“I think we’ll be okay with the lights off,” he finally replied and felt his way to a chair next to Chris’.

He sat down and stared into the dark. Dom didn’t know what to say, he wasn’t particularly in the mood to talk. It seemed, however, like Chris was just the same because the bassist didn’t utter another word and occupied himself with a glass that was standing on top of the table.

His mind drifted to his nightmare again. How Matt’s face had contorted at the sight of him, how he’d sneered his name in the end. It hurt. He knew it wasn’t real, but that didn’t make it feel less painful. He wondered if his singer would sound like that when they finally got him back. There was no doubt in his mind that they _would_ get him back, anything else was unacceptable, but he was scared that Matt would be a broken man.

“What makes you sigh like that, mate?” Chris broke the silence and Dom nearly jumped out of his skin.

He hadn’t even realised that he had kept sighing every once in a while, or that he’d gripped the tablecloth tightly. Of course he’d have to draw attention to himself, even when it was dark and he could hide his face’s reaction. No going back now, though. Chris wouldn’t let it go until he knew, so Dom might as well save himself some time and come clean.  

“Just a bad dream,” he replied honestly.

“I see,” Chris said before he softly added, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, not really.”

They remained silent for a while, both lost in their own thoughts. Dom played with the rim of his glass, debating what to say. No matter how long he mulled it over in his head, he couldn’t find an answer to the question that had been bugging him since he’d woken up. Maybe Chris could give an answer, but Dom was afraid to speak his thoughts aloud. Then again, what did he have to lose? They’d both seen each other going through the best and worst times of their lives, and since Matt had been abducted Dom had shown often enough just how vulnerable and weak he could be.

“Do you…” he began carefully and waited for Chris to react. If the bassist didn’t want to talk now, even though he had offered it a couple of minutes ago, they could both pretend no one had said anything. An easy escape.

But Chris gave him a quiet murmuring sound, indicating that he was listening, so Dom took a deep breath.

“Do you think I’m forgetting Matt?”

“How do you mean?” the bassist asked, clearly confused.

Dom sighed. How could he explain this to his friend? This feeling of hollowness in his chest whenever he thought about Matt being somewhere, thinking that his friends had abandoned him? He hadn’t looked for the singer for days, he hadn’t even checked the website. He hadn’t cried or cursed the world. Instead, he went out for shopping and cooked huge dinners for his friends. Maybe the Matt in his dreams was indeed right and he had started to accept a life without him, even though he kept telling himself that a life without Matt wasn’t worth living.

Since he’d woken up he felt so confused. Not that life had been clear for him in a long time, but the different thoughts in his head made it so difficult to understand. It didn’t help that he had had the little revelation about his relationship to Matt, either.

“I mean that I’ve been happy these past days. Without him. I shouldn’t be happy, because he’s fuck knows where and maybe hurt or-“ He sighed. “Shouldn’t I be out there, looking for him? It’s been 13 days, what if he thinks we’ve given up on him?”

“Is that what your dream was about?” Chris asked in return and Dom could have cursed himself. He thought the safety of darkness would help him, but he was clearly wrong. Either he was way too transparent or Chris had a sixth sense for it.

The drummer debated lying for a moment, because how pathetic was that? But what was the point? Either Chris would look right through the lie or Dom would be unhappy with himself for the rest of the day.

“Yes. I… I have been dreaming about Matt for quite some time,” he admitted, and wasn’t that the truth? “The dreams have been really bad since he’s gone, but… I dreamed about him dying, Chris. He died in my arms. And he blamed me.”

So he proceeded to tell his friend exactly what had happened in that dream. It scared him how accurate his memory still seemed to be, he usually forgot most details of his dreams within minutes, but this one seemed to stick to in brain like glue. The drummer was worried that it would stay with him for the rest of his life.

Chris remained quiet throughout the story, sometimes nodding (which Dom could only see when a car illuminated the kitchen again) or making affirmative noises that he was still listening, but letting Dom tell what he remembered and Dom was grateful for it. Once he had started he was glad he had found the guts to tell Chris, because he already felt better knowing that he could share this with someone and that the someone didn’t walk away because it sounded crazy and pathetic at the same time.

“So yeah,” he concluded. “That’s it. Stupid, isn’t it?”

“No, Dom, I don’t think it’s stupid at all.”

The blonde huffed at that. “You don’t have to patronize me. I’m embarrassed enough, I don’t need you to take my hand and pity me. You can be honest.”

“I am honest, Dom,” the bassist insisted. “You’re going through a lot. You already blamed yourself for Matt’s disappearance and you had a terrible breakdown. You think that just because you’ve stopped feeling sorry for yourself and started some form of living again that you don’t care about Matt anymore. I understand that. I really do. But we both know that this is not true.”

“Why am I feeling like I’m letting him down, then?”

“Because he’s not here and it’s been 2 weeks. It feels like we’re still in the same place we were the day we found the police in front of his house.”

Dom nodded at that because that was exactly what it felt like to him. It was devastating to realise that, but also comforting to know that Chris seemed to feel the same.

“You’ve learned to deal with the pain,” the bassist continued. “And I’m so bloody proud of you. But it doesn’t mean that you’ve lost your feelings for Matt. Quite the contrary, I’d say.”

And fuck, wasn’t that to the point? Dom swallowed hard and stared at the dark table in front of him. His heart rate doubled without effort and he fumbled with the tablecloth again. He wouldn’t be able to hold back if Chris kept going down that road.

“Maybe you don’t realise it,” Chris continued. “But I can see that Matt’s constantly on your mind. You’re reading his books and you make sure that there’s always a supply of bananas in the house. It’s always been like that, it’s just a bit more evident now. And Dom, when you cooked for us you set the table for one more person. You’re not forgetting him at all.”

The blonde felt a lump building in his throat. No, he hadn’t realised he’d done any of that, not before and definitely not now, Chris was right. Knowing that, though, made his heart ache even harder than before.

“Chris, I-“ He all but jumped from his chair and walked over to the window. He needed to look somewhere, anywhere but Chris. The darkness wasn’t his ally. He’d felt safe knowing he could hide, but he’d come to realise that Chris didn’t need to see him to know what’d been bothering him. And really, how stupid was Dom to assume he could hide anything from one of his best friends? He really wasn’t giving Chris enough credit if that was how he thought about him. He didn’t need to see the distraught look on Dom’s face to know he was having a small crisis. He didn’t even need to see or feel the weak shaking of his limbs. His wavering voice told enough stories.

“Chris, what if… What if I told you that I think that Matt means more to me than just the sex?”

“Well, he is your best mate, after all?” the bassist replied, confusion lacing his voice.

Dom sighed. “Yes, but I mean… Even more than that? Like, you know…?”

Silence followed his statement. Dom was too afraid to turn back to Chris, even though he still couldn’t see him properly. He didn’t want to face rejection, not with his best friend. But here he was, worried that Chris would tell him to get the fuck out of the house and not come back ever again. Why he felt like that, he didn’t know. Chris had taken it well when Dom had told him about the secret affair he was having with Matt. But what if that was the end of his acceptance? What if Chris was okay with them being intimate, but not with the feelings Dom had developed (strike that, he’d always had those, he just hadn’t realised it sooner) and the complications that came with it?

“Chris? Please, say something.”

He was only met with silence.

“Chris, please, I-“

“Shh,” Chris interrupted him. “Do you hear that?”

At that, Dom listened to his surroundings more intently. It was quiet, as you’d expect in the dead of the night. He was just about to tell Chris that no, he didn’t hear anything when he heard a faint sound. Like someone tiptoeing through the house. Instantly, he froze. The footsteps were too heavy for a child or Kelly, and none of them would be walking around at this hour, anyway. He could totally be wrong about that, of course, but Chris knew his family, so if he thought something was not right, then it probably wasn’t.

“There’s someone inside,” Chris whispered and confirmed Dom’s string of thoughts.

Carefully, the bassist got up from his chair and signalled Dom to stay quiet. They listened once again and could hear whoever it was moving something around.

“Living room.”

The two of them tiptoed through the kitchen and through the hallway in the direction of the living room, until Chris stopped at the foot of the stairs to the upper floor, and Dom nearly walked into him because his mind was working overdrive at the moment.

There was someone in this house. A burglar? A killer? No matter who, it scared Dom shitless. He wasn’t a fighter and he was balls at defending himself or anyone else.

“Dom.”

The drummer looked up at that.

“Go upstairs and check on Kelly and the kids.”

“What about you?”

He didn’t get a reply as Chris was already on the move and was expectimg Dom to do as he was told, so Dom moved, as well. He ran up the stairs, taking two steps at a time, and stuck his head into every door. The first room he checked was Frankie’s, the boy still fast asleep and snoring loudly. With a relieved sigh, Dom closed the door quietly and moved onto the next room. He did that a couple of times with every single Wolstenholme child being oblivious to what was happening. before the only room left to check was the master bedroom. He hesitated in front of the door for a moment because it felt weird to him to check on his best friend’s wife while she was, hopefully, asleep, but it wasn’t like he had much of a choice.

He was just about to open the door when it got louder downstairs. There was some shouting before something shattered, followed by more noise that sounded like someone was fighting.

The door of the master bedroom opened and suddenly Kelly was stadning in front of Dom, clearly confused and nervous.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

Dom grabbed her shoulders. “Stay here, okay? Watch the kids, but don’t come downstairs unless either Chris or I tell you it’s safe.”

Without waiting for a reply, just like Chris had done to him before, he sprinted down the stairs to join his bandmate.

It was silent again, too silent for Dom’s liking. The lights were still turned off, but he could make out the chaotic state the living room was in. So Chris had been right, the burglar had been in that room. But where was Chris now? Just to be careful, Dom sneaked around extra quietly.

When he reached the door, he could make out a bulky figure standing with his back to Dom. The street lights illuminated the room enough so he could also see that Chris was slumped against the wall, his face full of dark liquid. Blood. Fuck.

“Chris!”

Throwing all caution to the wind, Dom ran forward to aid his injured friend. He stopped dead in his tracks, however, when the burglar turned around to face him.

Even with only the dim light from outside he recognised this face. He’d never be able to forget it, even if he tried. It had been haunting his every step for weeks now, Dom seeing it at every corner, creeping up on him. It had taken what was the most important in his life.

And now, the person that belonged to the face had apparently broken into the Wolstenholme residence and knocked out Chris.

The kidnapper’s face turned from satisfied to frowning, fixing Dom with his gaze. The blonde felt frozen to the spot. No matter how much he told his limbs to fucking move they wouldn’t obey his will. The kidnapper on the other hand used that chance to run past Dom and to the open terrace door, effectively fleeing from the scene.

It took the drummer several moments until his legs finally gave way and he fell to the ground. His pulse raced and his hands wouldn’t stop shaking, so he took a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves. To no avail, though. His legs wouldn’t support him anymore, so he crawled over to Chris instead.

He whispered the bassist’s name, afraid that speaking louder would hurt him somehow. The taller man didn’t reply, though, and didn’t even give an indication that he’d heard Dom at all.

“Come on, Chris. Don’t do this to me now,” Dom begged and immediately felt tears springing to his eyes. He touched the bassist’s face and tried to clean off the blood, but only managed to smear it everywhere instead. One of his hands went lower to touch his throat and he leant his forehead against Chris’. Fuck, he was so useless.

“Chris…”

___

_???_

“Eat. You look like shit,” Matt’s kidnapper drawled without looking at him as he put the usual tray down on the nightstand.

There were scrambled eggs, buttered toast and water. _How very nice_ , Matt thought to himself and could only do so much not to sneer at the taller man. He was huddled into the very corner of his bed with his blanket draped over his shoulders and his knees pulled up to his chest.

“ _You_ look like shit,” he replied without thinking. Psycho did indeed look like shit, what with his face half covered in bruises and a little scab. That impression was intensified when the man gave him a death glare. Matt wasn’t impressed, though. “What happened? Did you look too close at some priceless instrument Beethoven shagged on? I’ve gotta say, I really like that bruisy look on you. Suits your character.”

“You worthless little git.” The man snarled at Matt’s outrageous comment.

For a split second the singer regretted his insolence, but when the fucker didn’t act on his apparent anger, Matt’s face cracked into a bitter smile. It felt somehow liberating to give vent to some of his desperation, especially now that there seemed to be no backlash coming.

“You’re losing a bit of your passion, aren’t you?” In truth, Matt knew what had changed in the man, and it most certainly wasn’t a lack of passion. No, he appeared to be nervous and tensed. His motions weren’t as steady and secure as before and his usually blank face betrayed his nerves.

“Shut up and eat,” the bulky man retorted and Matt did as he was told. Not because he was told, though, far from that. He had been struck by a sudden idea. If the man was as nervous as he suspected him to be, then this was the chance he had been waiting for ever since his abduction. He could make it. He just had to be careful.

He was absently chewing on a piece of toast when the man didn’t deign to look at him again and instead turned around to leave the room. The door banged shut behind him and Matt, for the first time in a long time, allowed a little flare of hope to worm its way through the despair. It had to work.

___

It just had to!

A few hours later he was all set up and waiting. He knew that Psycho always came in when he was supposed to be asleep in order to pick up his dirty clothes. The thought that the guy did his laundry alone, creeped him out to no end. But that wasn’t really the point right now. The point was that it was dark and his Manson was leaning against his nightstand.

He had made a small show out of it when he’d picked up the guitar earlier and pretended to be playing out of a sudden urge. All the while he’d had no idea if the guy was watching, but he just couldn’t take the risk of getting caught. Not when he had an actual chance to finally make his escape.

So, the Manson was ready to hand, it was dark, and he had intentionally slid one of his shirts halfway under the bed. Psycho would have to kneel down close to the bed and thereby give Matt the perfect position to strike.

Given that he wasn’t the best of actors, Matt paid special attention to the way he lay, angled his head and grabbed the pillow. Pretending to be asleep wasn’t really the hardest part of his plan, but considering his tendency to overthink even the most minor details, it didn’t really surprise him that he had to toss around a bit before he found a convincing position.

Fortunately he didn’t have to wait for too long. By the time his abductor opened the door, his whole body was tingling with nerves and he felt like a complete wreck. The man was carrying an electric torch like he always did when he expected Matt to be asleep. He didn’t know that there had been countless times when the dim light of the device had been enough to wake Matt from his restless sleep.

A low, disapproving grunt escaped the man’s lips as he found some of Matt’s clothes under the bed. He flashed the light at the seemingly sleeping singer for a second, just to make sure. Then he kneeled down and started to gather the shirts and trousers.

 _Now or never!_ Matt thought and shot up from his position, made a grab for the guitar, and smashed it over the man’s head forcefully. Everything happened in less than three seconds and Matt was actually a little surprised when the guy crashed to the floor, body going completely limp and not making the slightest sound.

Frozen in shock over his victory, the singer could just stare at the unconscious man’s face. It was illuminated by the torch light and for the first time ever looked quite peaceful. Then he snapped out of his state of shock and sprang to the floor in one fluid motion. He knocked down the remainings of his dinner in the process but didn’t look around as the glass burst on the ground.

There was a small ray of light falling through the gap between door and frame. Matt pulled it open, hurried into the hallway and threw it shut behind him again, effectively locking his tormentor up in his former prison. Without hesitation he started running down the long, white hallway, eyes already fixed on the next door. He had no idea how big this place actually was, but right now he didn’t care. His kidnapper was knocked out and locked up. What did it matter if he had to search a few minutes longer?

Suddenly thoughts of the reunion with his friends started to crowd his mind and for the first time in forever his face broke into an honest smile. He was finally going home!

___

_17.08.2013 - London_

“Stop being such a fucking pussy!”

“But it hurts!”

Dom watched the exchange in front of him, still shaking slightly. After the kidnapper had left and Dom had begged Chris to wake up, Kelly had flown down the stairs, ignoring Dom’s command to stay upstairs from earlier. She’d turned on the lights and once she had set eyes on the lifeless form of her husband, she’d run over and fallen to her knees in front of him to cry into his shoulder so hard that it made Dom’s heart break. To much of his relief, though, the bassist had moved right in that moment, murmuring Kelly’s name. It was weak, but it was there, and Dom had never felt as happy to hear the deep voice as he’d been then. After that they’d helped Chris up and placed him on one of the chairs of the dining table, and Kelly had rushed off to get the first aid kit while Dom had made sure to have an eye on his friend and call the police. He didn’t get much out of Chris, but what the bassist had told him was that he had found the kidnapper looking through the cupboard, apparently trying to find something. What exactly, they didn’t know. That particular drawer only held photos of them and drawings that the kids had done over the years. Chris had surprised him from behind, but the kidnapper wouldn’t go down without a fight, so they wrestled around the room with both landing some punches here and there until the bulky man had gotten the upper hand and knocked Chris over the head.

Now they were waiting for the police to show up while Kelly was taking care of the deep gash on Chris’ head, dabbing at it with a piece of cotton soaked in antiseptic.

“Can you be a bit more careful?”

“Can you stop being such a girl?” She actually rolled her eyes at him.

The bassist whined in reply, and Dom couldn’t help but chuckle. He was still shaken by the night’s events, but seeing his friend being so childish was amusing and, yes, girly was new and very entertaining. He’d have to file that away and tease him about it at some point, preferably when there was something between them so Chris couldn’t break his neck.

“There, done,” Kelly finally said and looked at her work. The plaster on Chris’ forehead looked a bit ridiculous and Dom would have laughed in his face if it had been under any different circumstances. Kelly kissed Chris’ forehead before she packed up the kit and went to the bathroom to stash it away again. On her way she passed Dom and laid her hand against his cheek. She thumbed it tenderly for a moment, giving him a bit of comfort, before she left the room.

Dom sighed deeply and closed his eyes for a moment. So now they knew, Matt had been kidnapped by this man. It would’ve been too much of a coincidence if the same man whom Matt had told them about had now broken into their house while having nothing to do with his friend’s abduction. It wasn’t like they really needed a confirmation, of course, it had been obvious from the start, especially since Matt had left them a note. But now they knew without a trace of doubt. He didn’t know if that was good or bad, or if it would change anything at all, but it somehow felt like some form of progress.

He opened his eyes again and looked over to Chris who was still sitting at the table, gripping the phone they’d used to call the police tightly in one hand, the other hanging down limply. His head was tipped back and his eyes closed, and Dom noted the new thin sheen of sweat on the unusually pale face of his friend.

“You okay, mate?” Dom asked quietly and walked over to the table.

“Dizzy. Sick,” was the short reply he got. He doubted that was a good sign.

“You should get that checked. The gash might need stitches, too.”

“Later. Police first.”

He heard Kelly walking upstairs. She probably went to check on the kids who were all gathered in one of the rooms. They’d come downstairs at some point, woken up by the commotion, and had immediately started panicking at the sight of their father. Ava had sprung into action and had ushered them all upstairs with the promise of video games. It seemed to have worked as the kids immediately went with her. Only Alfie had stayed behind, asking how he could help. There wasn’t much to do yet, not until the police was there, so they had agreed that he’d help Ava with their siblings. He’d hugged his mum tightly before going to the kitchen to grab a tube of ice cream and heading upstairs.

“Are you sure about that? You took a nasty blow.”

Chris nodded, but he didn’t seem too convinced himself. He really didn’t look well, and even if he had, Dom doubted that a hit to the head was something that should be treated lightly. Especially not when the hit had been caused by something as heavy as an Xbox. Really, it was quite ironic in a way that the one item that had endured so much beating had now gotten its revenge. And so very bizarre. Anyway, he was sure Chris needed medical attention. The sooner, the better.

“Are you okay, though?” Chris asked after a while, and Dom looked down at the carpet.

“Yeah, I just-” he sighed. “Im sorry.”

At that, Chris cocked his head and immediately regretted the movement as his eyes fell shut again.

“I let him get away.”

“We both did.”

Dom moved a chair around so he could sit down in front of Chris. “But you were unconscious. I wasn’t. I should have stopped him. What if that was our only chance? Or what if he panics now and hurts Matt?”

“Dom,” Chris said and he sounded a bit stronger than before, most likely not because he was feeling better but because he wanted to get his point across. “I’m just glad at the moment that you and Kelly and my kids are okay. He knocked me out, so what chances would you have had against him? Don’t take it the wrong way, mate, but you’re about as strong as a cooked spaghetti.”

Dom huffed, but he knew that Chris was right, even if he was exaggerating.

“We’ll catch him. The police might be able to find something in this,” he pointed blindly around the living room, “chaos. And as for Matt, I think he’ll be safe for a little while longer. That’s probably the only good thing about this. That guy wants to show off, not kill him.”

Chris was right, Matt wasn’t being held for ransom or vengeance, but for collecting purpose. Considering how he’d talked about the singer on the boards, this man probably wouldn’t want to lose one of his _most precious items_. At least Dom hoped that that was the case.

In that moment, the doorbell rang and Kelly opened the door for the policemen. They immediately went to work to secure evidence, while another officer told Dom and Chris that CI Whitman would be with them in a moment.

Kelly joined them again and held Chris’ hand. “You need to see a paramedic.”

“I’m fine,” he protested, but Kelly wouldn’t let it go and Dom felt compelled to side with her.

“You look like shit,” he argued and winced immediately. Not the best thing to say, maybe. “Come on, you can talk to the police later. It’s important that you get that checked.”

Kelly looked at Dom before she fixed her husband again. “Please, darling.”

“Mate, come on.”

At long last, Chris sighed and nodded his agreement. “Alright, fine. But get me a bucket first, I think I’m about to be sick.”

Luckily, an ambulance had arrived together with the police, as Dom had mentioned on the phone that one of them was hurt, so it didn’t take long for Chris to get checked. The wound indeed needed stitching and the nausea and dizziness came from the concussion he’d sustained. He’d definitely have to get to a hospital for further examination. Chris refused at first, but Kelly’s Glare of Anger quietened his protests in an instant.

“I’ll drive with him, is that okay?” she asked Dom and shrugged on her jacket. “Ava and Alfie are taking the kids to Amber. I’ve just called her and she’s okay with it. So you’ll be alone with the police and-”

“Kelly, relax,” he interrupted her and touched her arm. “I’ve got this. You take care of your husband. I’ll do the rest here.”

“Okay. Okay, I’ll call you as soon as I know anything new.”

With that she left the house and climbed into the ambulance to accompany Chris to the hospital.

Dom turned around to watch the police officers do their work and spotted CI Whitman talking to one of them in the hallway, so he walked over to give his statement as quickly as possible.

“Mr Howard,” the CI greeted when he spotted him. “I guess you’ll have some explaining to do.”

___

_???_

Wow, this really was a big ass house. Matt had been running and opening doors for at least ten minutes now and it seemed like there was no end to it. What he had found out, though, was that he had been held hostage in the basement. Now he had finally reached ground floor level, but still there was no sign of an exit. No big wooden door, no real windows.

“What kind of a fucked up hiding place is this?” he mumbled under his breath, but kept running, not _like_ but _because_ his life depended on it.

When he opened another door, there were more stairs and for a moment he wondered whether there were two below-ground storeys. He ran up the flight of steps and was suddenly blinded by bright light. There was a whole wall of windows and the garden beyond the glass was stunning. Matt couldn’t help but stop in his tracks for a moment.

What caught his attention wasn’t the beautiful view. Far from that, really. It was the fact that it was broad daylight. Shit, his inner rhythm was completely fucked up. Before he resumed his flight, his eyes found a digital watch on the far wall of the room. It was quarter past eleven on the 17th of August. For a second he tried to remember the date of his abduction but couldn’t for the life of him.

What did it even matter, though?

In a swift motion he turned around and quickly made his way down yet another hallway. This time there were pictures on the walls and decorations everywhere. If he hadn’t known better he would have said that this was a woman’s house or at least that of a family.

When, finally, the front door came into view, all his thoughts focussed on that. He didn’t care if Psycho had a family and had secretly kept him in the basement for his perverse enjoyment. All he wanted was to get _out_.

His breathing came in heavy and strangled puffs when his hand cramped around the door handle and pushed it down. Then he pulled. Nothing happened. His heart seemed to stop beating for an incredibly long and painful moment. He tried again, but the door remained unyielding.

“No, no, no!” Matt cried out and banged his fists against the dark, heavy wood.

Okay, okay, okay. There had to be another way out, he just had to calm down a little. He rubbed his face with both hands and turned around again, scanning his surroundings. There were doors on each side of the corridor. His best chance was to go back to the room with the window wall. Maybe he could get into the garden and continue his escape from there.

The singer leaped forward and in his hurry to make it back to the room, he didn’t pay much attention to the rest of the house anymore. _Out, out, out,_ was all he could think of. His bare feet made smacking sounds on the tile floor as he hurried back into what was probably the main living room of this residence.

Matt almost crashed into the glass front in his haste. There was no window that stood out from the others, none that looked like it could be used as a door. But he was prepared to try each and every single window. No way would he give up now. If all else failed, he would just have to smash it in.

He had a strong sense of déjà vu as he stood in front of the first window, clad only in a shirt and his boxer shorts, and fumbled with the handle. It didn’t work, though, so he went over to the next window. The hope that had swollen in his chest numbed all other feelings and a little setback wouldn’t change that.

So, naturally, he didn’t hear the footsteps behind him. He didn’t see the gun that was raised. He didn’t see the hand that let the pistol grip swing at his head. He only heard the dull whack of the eventual impact and felt the explosion of pain that spread from the back of his head, down in his spine, and through his whole body. He felt his knees buckle and his body sagging. Then everything went black.

___

He felt weird. His vision was nothing but red. Why, though? He didn’t understand. His thoughts went from blank to chaos in less than a second. Had it always been red? Was it blood? But why should it be blood? Hadn’t there been hope? But what exactly had he been hoping _for_? He couldn’t remember, his head was a mess. A dull pain in his neck made itself known. It travelled up into the back of his head and suddenly exploded, spreading everywhere.

The next thing Matt realised was that his body was swaying back and forth. But why? His stomach protested at the movement and he felt like he was about to be sick. His consciousness was slowly coming back, but still he couldn’t open his eyes. Oh. It was only then that he noticed they were closed in the first place. It explained the redness of his surroundings. His neck was resting against something warm and soft while his head dangled in the air. He had no control over it and his headache intensified with each back and forth.

Then there were voices. Two of them if he wasn’t completely mistaken. At first he found them indiscernible and muffled as if there was a pillow pressed over his ears. Only when his hearing returned did he recognise his kidnapper’s low drawl. The second voice was higher and sounded somehow familiar. For some reason it made him feel safe. Safe from what, though? Kidnapper? Oh. Oh shit.

Suddenly there was a flood memories and images rushing back into his head and he remembered everything. Who had unlocked the psycho from his prison? Hadn’t he already reached the front door? Yes, he definitely had. But then there had been pain followed by blackness. He had been knocked out again. How long ago had that been? All the thinking exhausted him to no end and made his head hurt even more.

“You complete imbecile!” the safe voice said. “Trust you to fail at even the simplest of tasks.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” The man sounded scared. Of what?

“Of course you didn’t mean to. You never do! And still you are nothing but a failure.”

“He caught me off guard, I couldn’t do anything about it.”

“He is half your size, stop making excuses. And it is not only that. You came back from the Wolstenholme house with a black eye and, more importantly, empty-handed. You really are the definition of ‘waste of space’. I relied on you and you let me down time and time again. It is not only that you got caught by his friends, no. Of course you weren’t even able to deal with them.”

“I tried! But that Wolstenholme guy is strong. I did manage to knock him out, though.”

Chris? Matt tried to open his eyes. He finally felt _there_ again. He was being carried in strong arms. Arms which had hurt him more than once, he knew that. But he couldn’t focus on it right now. The second voice, he knew it and he wanted to see the face that went with it desperately. What had happened to Chris? Was he okay? Oh God, what if he wasn’t?

“I said stop making excuses! You almost broke Matthew’s bones when you brought him here. Tell me, how is it possible that one person can do so much damage? I should have done it, all of it, alone. From the very start. You are a useless idiot.”

“Please, I’ll do better next time. I promise, I’ll not disappoint you again.”

“No, indeed you won’t.”

The second voice had a dangerous tinge to it and Matt found himself starting to shake. He’d never heard it this furious and cold before. Far from it, really. He remembered it being warm and shy and…

“Suzanne?”

Slowly he started to open his eyes although the glaring light stung them and they instantly started to cloud over. But there she was. Suzanne. His favourite waitress, walking closely behind him and the kidnapper. Their eyes met and she froze to the spot, as did his carrier.

“Matthew,” she breathed, wide-eyed. Then she stepped closer and ran her fingers through his hair. To inspect his head, as he soon noticed. “How are you feeling?” she asked almost softly and then proceeded to scold him. “You should not have tried to run, that was foolish. If you hadn’t, there would have been no need to stop you. But you didn’t leave me much choice. I had to hurt you. And now look at you, all messed up and bloody.”

The young woman pursed her lips and wiped away a stray drop of blood that was running down from his temple. He could do nothing but stare at her. Slowly his brain started to catch up and made the final connection.

“You?”

He looked up at the mortified expression of the kidnapper whose eyes were trained on Suzanne. He followed his gaze again. She was still looking at him, mouth tightly shut.

“It was you? But I thought-”

“Shhh, Matthew. Stop. You are bleeding. We need to take care of that, clean you up.”

Oh God. What? His head was still hurting like a bitch, but he started to struggle, lashing out at the man who was carrying him. But of course it was in vain. The grip on his limbs was tight and he could already feel bruises starting to form on his skin again. In addition he felt completely worn out and weak. He should have eaten more. He should have tried to rest properly. He could have made it! He could be free now had he only prepared himself better. His body went limp again, but his brain was still running at top speed.

“What the hell is going on here? What are you doing?”

“Shush, Matthew, you have already done enough damage for today. You should rest now. There is still a lot of work ahead and I don’t want you to hurt yourself further. In addition, I have a few things to discuss with Jon.”

She side-eyed the bulky man as they entered his cell again. No, no, no, he’d come so far… Now he was where he had started and would probably never get a chance to escape again. He would die in here, Matt was sure of that. He would die and never see his friends again. He would never get a chance to tell Dom. That thought tore at his heart more than he felt was appropriate. But he missed him. So very badly.

The kidnapper, Jon his name was, laid him down on the mattress non too carefully, and his head bumped into the wall at the head of the bed. For a moment he saw sparkly stars which distracted him from the people who were standing next to him. He felt like passing out again, and oh wouldn’t that have been salvation? Maybe… maybe there _was_ only one permanent way out of here. He didn’t want to die, but… What if it saved his friends? In a way it would save _him_.

His head kept throbbing furiously and there was not an ounce of strength left in his body. With it, his will to fight had gone, too. He didn’t know what to do anymore. Although he wasn’t exactly the person to give up easily, he was beyond exhausted. And not only in a physical sense. His mind was in pieces, his emotions clouding his thoughts so he couldn’t even think straight anymore.

Was this it? Had he finally reached his breaking point? It sure felt like it to him.

Suddenly and seemingly out of nowhere Suzanne had produced a cold, wet cloth with which she started to dab the blood from his forehead and face. Had she left to get it? He didn’t know, his vision got blurrier by the minute and, quite frankly, he didn’t care too much about anything anymore.

Except for his friends. Always his friends. He was actually amazed by the determination that thought brought back into his mind. But, unfortunately, it didn’t change the fact that his body was completely drained. He felt like he couldn’t move if his life depended on it. Which it very much did right now.

“What do you want? Suzanne, please…” His eyes fluttered close as he forced the words out quietly.

“Matthew, I have told you more than once. And I do not understand your resistance, to be honest. You were doing great and then you had to go and ruin all our progress.” She shook her head at the beat brunette. “You really disappointed me, you know?”

“I honestly don’t-” he started to reply but was cut short when a hand was clamped over his mouth.

“No, shush. I told you not to exert yourself,” she berated him harshly, and only when he made no further move to fight her and instead went utterly limp, she took her hand away again.

Then, she turned back to Jon and positively glared at him. He’d been standing behind her the whole time and, hadn’t he been rather muscular and well controlled, he would’ve been shaking under her dangerous gaze now.

“What are you waiting for? Go and tend to his wounds. You know where the bandages are, right? We do not want him to suffer any more damage than you have already caused.”

When another, rougher pair of hands started to work on his head, Matt’s eyes flew open again. He was staring directly into Jon’s eyes, and the other man looked scared. Not nervous like before, but actually scared. It was just Suzanne, how could he be frightened of this tiny woman? But when he caught a glimpse of the grim determination on her face, he immediately reconsidered his first impression of her.

She _was_ downright scary right now. Her jaw was set, making her features appear harder and straighter than usual. Her eyes were cold and adamant, while her lips were pressed into a thin line. The rest of her body wasn’t as rigid, though. Quite the contrary even, she was walking back and forth in front of the still halfway opened door, seemingly not able to contain her anger.

Jon was kneeling beside him then, fumbling around with a metal box that had been in one of the locked drawers of the bedside table. Matt already knew that it was where they kept the bandages and antiseptics and what not. He bit down on his tongue and let out a pained hiss when a drop of the burning liquid came in contact with the gash on his cheek. Matt could feel Jon’s fingers shaking when he tried to put a plaster over the deepest part of the wound. It was a little weird how he was suddenly overcome by a sense of sympathy for the man. He seemed to be completely under Suzanne’s control. Said sympathy didn’t last long, though, as he remembered everything that man had done to him and his friends.

“It has been you all along, hasn’t it?” he finally whispered, all the pieces finally falling into place. This explained everything. Jon did not have any sort of personality disorder. There had actually been _two_ people the whole time. Suzanne stopped in her tracks.

“Of course, did you really think that idiot of man would have been able to pull this off on his own? He does not even have the slightest appreciation for music. He is nothing but a means to an end.” Suzanne’s words made Jon’s head snap up.

“But I thought-” he started.

“No, Jon. No, you didn’t think. That is why you have been such a good hand. A hand, nothing else.” She gave him a look that spoke of pure contempt.

“Suzanne, I love you, you know that!” Jon’s voice rose with desperation.

The young woman actually smirked at that. “Yes, I do know that. Thank you, it has been very… convenient.”

Matt’s eyes widened in horror as he followed the conversation. This nightmare was getting worse by the minute. Now he understood how she had been able to get so close to his friends. They _trusted_ her. And who could’ve even imagined her to be a criminal psychopath? It was beyond him.

“You’re a bloody freak!” he squeaked, voice higher than he had anticipated. “Has this been your plan all along? Getting close to us and then kidnap me? Staying close to my friends so you could scare me?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “And here I was thinking that you were not as dull as the rest of them. A brilliant musician, but dull all the same.” Her hand was steady and controlled as she moved it behind her back.

“Suzanne,” Jon gasped, clearly aware of what she was doing.

“I have really had it with you,” she hissed.

Matt tried to understand what was going on, his eyes fixed on her still hidden hand. Then, he swallowed hard and managed to pull himself into a sitting position although his head was spinning violently. It reappeared with a gun. A bloody _gun_! She had pulled it from her waistband. It had been there the whole time.

“What the hell are you doing?” Matt shrieked and surprised himself with his ability to talk through his shock and horror.

“It is about time you realise what I am capable of. I do not appreciate the way I am treated around here.” Her voice was low and her face spoke not only of determination but also madness. It was clearly visible in her every feature as she raised the gun, not wavering for a second.

Matt saw the muzzle, pitch black and promising an ending he had never even dreamt of. He squeezed his eyes shut and the numb feeling that spread through his limbs made him believe that he was already dying. _No, no, no,_ he took it all back, _I don’t want to die, not here, not like this!_

His mind went blank when the click of the slide rang in his ears and the bullet slid into the barrel. Every sound was too loud. His body was shaking, but he couldn’t feel it. In a way Matt was even anticipating it with a feeling of guilty relief. When the lethal bang finally came, it was excruciatingly loud, but at the same time soothing.

Then there was nothing.

 


	8. Chapter 8

_17.08.2013 - London_

“So… it was definitely him.”

The others watched Dom silently after he’d finished his account of last night’s break in. Dom A, Tom and Morgan were sitting around the table with their eyes fixed on the exhausted drummer. They each had a cup of terrible hospital coffee standing in front of them and no one seemed to take notice of it.

Chris had to be taken in for further examination and now Kelly was with him. The kids were with one of Kelly’s friends who was supposed to bring them over in a few hours to see their father. The police had already taken the bassist’s statement and he’d firmly protested against being taken to the hospital, but with Kelly around, there had been no arguing.

“And the police has no idea what he wanted there? You didn’t see anything?” Tom knitted his brows together, obviously feeling as clueless as Dom.

The blonde shook his head in resignation. “No, he… he didn’t even say anything. Chris tried to take him down but… well, you know how that turned out.”

Tom nodded his head as his shoulders sagged. It made Dom feel even worse. This had been their first real shot at finding out about Matt’s whereabouts and he’d managed to fuck it up. Yes, Chris had tried to make him feel less responsible, but really? He should’ve done _more_. He should’ve at least tried to to do _something_.

“It’s not your fault,” Morgan almost whispered, his eyes trained on Dom. It was as if they all knew the stream of thought that was currently running through his head.

“No, I know,” Dom sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “I just… I can’t help thinking what if…”

“There’s no what if,” Dom A announced firmly. “The only what if that I can think of is that what if you’d tried to stop him? And I exactly know the answer to that one. You’d be lying in one of those hospital beds as well, and that’s only if you’d have been lucky.”

Dom laced his fingers around the coffee cup and averted his eyes. Then he nodded softly because hell, he knew they were right. He wouldn’t have stood a chance against that bear of a man.

“I think I’m gonna look into how Chris is doing, I hope you don’t-” he started but was interrupted by Kelly’s arrival.

“No one minds, dear. He asked for you anyway,” she said as she sat down next to Tom. “Says there’s something he needs to talk to you about.” Her warm smile didn’t really reach her eyes, though, and he couldn’t blame her. It’d been a tough night for her, too.

“Maybe you should go home and catch up on some sleep,” Dom suggested but she shook her head no immediately.

“No way I’m leaving this hospital without my husband. I’m just going to finish your coffee to keep me awake.” She winked at him as he got up with a sigh.

Obviously he wouldn’t have been able to convince her otherwise anyway. Even if he was worried for her. Because this was Kelly Wolstenholme they were talking about. If Chris was the tower of strength, then Kelly was its foundation. That much he’d learnt over the years they’d known each other. Especially these past weeks had proven it to him again.

“Well then… I’m gonna head up now.”

The others acknowledged his departure with slight nods and instantly engaged Kelly in a conversation, apparently to at least try and get her mind off her husband’s current state.

Dom left the cafeteria, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans and his eyes fixed on the ground under his feet. What did Chris want to talk about? They had already analysed the whole situation and come to the conclusion that there was nothing new that could be gathered from the incident. When he said incident what he really meant was one of the worst days of his life. Seeing Chris on the ground, unconscious and motionless, had made him feel as helpless as when he’d first learnt about Matt’s abduction. His friends needed him and there was nothing he could do to really help them. So he figured that the least he could do know was to keep himself together. There was no use in falling apart again.

He walked down the sterile, white corridor until he finally reached the door to Chris’ room. With yet another deep breath he pulled himself together and pressed down the handle. He managed to plaster a weak smile on his face when he saw his friend struggling with the tube in his arm. It seemed like Chris couldn’t lie still as he cursed under his breath. It was only when Dom closed the door behind him again that the bassist noticed his presence.

“Hey there, mate. How are you?”

“Oh well, I don’t really get why this thing needs to be stuck into my arm, but otherwise I’m good.” Chris rested his head back against his pillow and returned Dom’s smile. It was obviously a little fake, too.

“And the head? Everything in order in there?” Dom sat down on the chair beside the bed.

“Yeah, it’s okay. The doc says I’ve got a little concussion, but it’s not too bad considering the circumstances.”

Dom nodded and crossed his legs, both falling silent for a moment. The drummer examined the beeping machine that was connected to the tube in Chris’ arm. Probably nothing more than some sodium chloride solution to get his system going again. _Nothing to worry about_ , he told himself. Chris would soon be okay again. Although his friend still looked incredibly pale and too fragile for his liking.

A quiet sigh from the bassist pulled him out of his thoughts and he instantly looked up again.

“Look… I know this night has been a little… rough.” With a stern look at the drummer’s troubled face he added, “For _all_ of us.”

“Yeah…” Dom tried not to fumble with his fingers too obviously. He was nervous.

“But there’s a conversation we have yet to finish. Don’t think I’m letting this go just because some wanker thought it’d be fun to knock me out.” A small, genuine smile curled the corners of his mouth.

Ah. So that’s what this was about.

“Chris, it’s… not important. We’ve got more serious issues on our plate,” Dom tried but Chris was having none of it.

“I’m not forcing you to tell me anything, but I can clearly see that it’s bothering you. You’re more obvious than you probably think.” His smile was still in place.

“Well…” Dom scratched the back of his neck, remembering the turn their earlier conversation had taken before the kidnapper had interrupted them.

Chris tried to straighten the collar of his hospital gown, but not letting himself be distracted by the infuriating cloth. He cleared his throat and looked back at Dom. “You told me that there was… more between you and Matt.” He didn’t seem too comfortable with the topic himself, but the fact alone that he breached it again was telling Dom more than words could.  

He swallowed hard and averted his eyes again. “Yes.”

“So… what exactly is this ‘more’?” Dom could practically feel the inverted commas Chris was implying.

Trying to stall a bit, Dom uncrossed his legs again and leant his elbows on his knees, cradling his face in his hands. “I don’t know, Chris… This is new to me, too. Sort of. But I’m pretty sure I…”

Suddenly he felt a broad, steady hand squeeze his shoulder. “You love him.”

It wasn’t a question. Dom’s head shot up in surprise and his eyes locked with Chris’. What he found there wasn’t the rejection he’d irrationally been so afraid of. There were questions, yes, but also the warmth he’d come to rely upon so much over the past years.

He nodded and swallowed again. “I’m sorry, I-”

“Stop right there. What the hell are you sorry about? Seriously, you’ve blamed yourself for stuff that you’ve no control over enough to last a lifetime.” The hand remained firmly in place.

Only then did he realise that he was shaking a bit. “What if I never get the chance to tell him?” he whispered almost inaudibly.

Chris drew in a strangled breath and lay back again. Dom managed to look up again and took in the sudden change in his friend’s demeanor.

“Look, I’m not gonna lie to you… It’s… it’s not looking too good right now. But that doesn’t mean there’s no hope. If you give up on that, though, everyone else will, too. So… if there’s one thing I am 100 percent sure of, it is that Matt _knows_. He doesn’t need you to tell him. It has always been that way with you two wankers.”

Chris was smiling again and Dom couldn’t help but return it. It seemed like this was the first time anyone was telling him the truth. Chris wasn’t all patronising and _all will be good_ ,and much to his surprise, Dom appreciated that a lot.

“Thanks, mate. Really.”

Dom didn’t really know what Chris really thought about the revelation of these feelings, but it didn’t seem necessary to ask. He obviously didn’t disapprove and, for Dom, that was enough, at least for the moment.

___

_19.08.2013 - London_

Dom was already 20 minutes late when he hurried into CI Whitman’s office, but there was a good reason for his delay and it actually made him feel a little better that he’d finally come around to doing it.

“Hey, mate! Where have you been? You didn’t answer my text. We thought you’d be the first to rush over here, what with the news of a lead.” Tom looked him up and down sceptically.

Dom A was on the phone, apparently bringing Glen up to date, while Morgan was sitting next to Tom, texting with someone. Whitman wasn’t around yet (or anymore, considering his lateness that could also be the case). Chris couldn’t come to the station as Kelly had ‘grounded’ him. She was taking the doctor’s orders quiet seriously and watched her husband’s every movement eagle-eyed. So Dom had promised to brief him afterwards.

“Sorry, there was something I had to do first.” He patted the breast pocket of his leather jacket almost lovingly and sat down next to the media manager.

Tom just nodded, obviously not really convinced by Dom’s apology. But then Whitman entered the office again and stopped further inquiries.

“Ah, Mr Howard, there you are.” The CI put down a coffeepot and a few cups in the middle of his desk. Dom didn’t really feel like drinking coffee but accepted the offer, nevertheless.

It was only when Whitman was seated behind his desk that Dom got nervous about the news. Would they finally be able to find Matt? Was this the great breakthrough they’d been waiting for for so long? Before he could let himself be overwhelmed by renewed hope, the CI cleared his throat and Dom’s attention was completely focused again. He _had_ to stay realistic now. No hasty conclusions.

“So we have just gotten the findings of the crime scene examination of the break in at Mr Wolstenholme’s house. And sadly, I have to tell you that there is nothing to go on. The perpetrator didn’t leave any traces and we can only guess why he came there last night. We have a witness who saw someone of the same build running down the street, but no idea where he went.”

A collective sigh of defeat went through the room, but the CI raised his finger then. Obviously he wasn’t finished yet.

“ _But_ I didn’t summon you here just to tell you that there’s nothing new. This is not connected to the break in, but we were finally able to trace and locate one of the IP addresses from the website. What we know so far is that Mr Bellamy’s kidnapper used several different locations to upload the photos. One of them is an internet cafe in Central London.”

Dom’s heartbeat picked up a bit, but still he didn’t trust himself with letting his hopes rise. After the first explanation, the CI continued with a detailed description of the way they managed to track down the IP address and while Tom seemed to be completely absorbed, Dom’ thoughts started to wander. He didn’t understand much of the IT lingo and so he was sure that he wouldn’t miss anything vital.

His hand still lingered over the pocket of his jacket. Its content was the reason why he’d been late in the first place. Without really noticing it, he pulled the silver chain out of it and cradled it in his hand while his eyes were locked on of the files on the desk. He’d been to the jeweller to get it repaired. He didn’t want to give it back to Matt while it was still damaged. No, that would’ve been a reminder of the worst time of the singer's life and Dom was determined to do anything to make him forget.

Now he just needed his friend _back_. He was prepared. He was ready. He wanted Matt back and tell him about his feelings, make up for the time they’d already lost, and enjoy every single second he could possibly spend with the man. One thing he was completely sure of: he would never ever take the singer for granted again. Not when he couldn’t be sure that he’d always be around.

“... so we are already interviewing the staff and the cafe’s regulars.”

At that Dom was pulled out of his thoughts again and perked his ears. Witnesses sounded good. That meant there were people who might know something, people who might be able to help them find Matt. It was at least _something_ , wasn’t it?

Dom looked around and met Whitman’s gaze. The CI was carefully gauging the others’ reactions and Dom tried to do the same as he hadn’t followed the conversation too closely. But it was obvious that Dom A, Tom and Morgan felt the same as he did. Insecure. It was hard to suppress the hope this new lead had raised, but they were apprehensive to give in to it. It was a lead, yes. But it could just as well turn out to be a dead end again. And what then? Dom tried to stay collected. For the others, Matt and himself. But if his hopes got destroyed again, he wasn’t sure he would survive it.

“I think we should all take a break now and let everything sink in. Is that alright with you?” Whitman asked and everyone nodded back at him in confirmation.

Chairs were scraped over the floor when everyone got up from their seats. Dom could feel his friends’ eyes on him, probably evaluating his state of mind. He stared at the papers in front of him for another moment before he finally raised his eyes and looked at them one by one. Then he nodded, signaling to them that he was okay.

“You alright, mate?” Tom seemed to need a verbal confirmation, though, and Dom couldn’t really hold it against him. They had gone through a lot these past days and he hadn’t been the easiest person to read and to handle.

“Yeah,” he replied. “It’s just a lot to take in.”

“I know. I don’t know what to think. I want to be excited, but I’m afraid something will destroy all the progress we’ve made so far.”

“I know what you mean. It feels surreal to have a lead, finally.” He fumbled with his jacket and donned it. “I’m gonna go for a quick smoke. Want to join me?”

“Nah, mate. Thanks for the offer, though.”

Dom nodded at that and headed out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him. He followed the long hallway towards the front of the building and took a right where he knew the smoking area was located. The blonde was surprised to find it completely deserted, but he didn’t really mind. The peace meant he could re-organise his thoughts before he had to head back inside.

They had a lead. They might be able to find Matt and bring him home. The sheer prospect of that made Dom’s heart soar, but he was apprehensive not to get too excited. Like Chris, he was afraid to believe in a success just yet. But he could still hope, and hope he did. Lighting a cigarette and inhaling deeply, he let his mind wander.

He couldn’t wait to hold Matt in his arms again. He’d kiss him and never let go. He’d tell him that he loved him, that he wanted more than just a shag every other day, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with him, not just as friend, but as lover. And Matt would look at him and smile this soft smile he rarely showed to anyone, and he’d say that he wanted that, too. They’d kiss some more and fall asleep together before they faced their new life together.

Dom blew out the smoke and watched it rise to the ceiling before he took another breath.

First things first, they needed the singer back. What Whitman had told them sounded good, but that didn’t mean that it would bring them to their goal. He knew that, he wasn’t an idiot. Maybe weeks ago when he was still running around like a _headless chicken_ (he still wasn’t over Tom’s comparison) he’d have reacted differently, but now he tried to be realistic and calm. Chris had helped him a lot with that. They didn’t know when they’d get Matt back, he only knew they _would._ Even if this lead turned out to lead nowhere, they’d find him, no matter how long it took. One day Matt would be with them, and Dom wouldn’t give up until that day had come.

“Mr Howard?“

Dom turned around to face the voice and found a young man standing a few feet away from him. He looked pale and scared, and Dom immediately recognized the face. Last time they’d met, Dom had been the biggest arse, so he was surprised the kid had collected the courage to address him. He stubbed out his cigarette.

“You’re that boy. Ian.”

Ian nodded shyly and Dom could see the surprise in the kid’s eyes. Somehow he had the feeling that the boy hadn’t expected him to remember his name. The drummer remembered what DI Whitman had told them about the boy. _17, father left the mother a couple of years ago, no friends at school._ He was probably lonely and went through life as someone who’s never seen by anyone. Like a shadow. Dom immediately felt sympathy towards him. He was lucky to never have experienced that feeling of loneliness, but he knew that Matt had to fight with it a couple of times. With his parents being divorced and generally being a shy bloke (and boy, hadn’t that changed over the years?), it had been hard for the brunette to make new friends back then. Dom was glad that Matt had found the courage to talk to him on that sunny day in September. One day he’d ask him why he did it, why Matt had deemed him worthy of such a risk (and a risk it was for Matt).

“I’m sorry, Mr Howard. I didn’t want to disturb you,” Ian stammered. “I just- I’m sorry. I should go.”

The boy had just turned around and bolted for the door, when Dom sprang into action and grabbed a bony shoulder.

“Hey, hey. It’s alright. Calm down.”  He smiled calmly.

Ian stared at him for a moment, debating whether he should indeed stay or make a run for it again. His desire to stay won over, though he remained rigid, with his eyes darting around the small room.

Dom wondered if the boy was always like this or if the drummer’s behaviour during their first and last meeting had something to do with it. He knew how he’d treated the boy, what he’d said, and even though he still believed that he had every right to be upset it didn’t give him the right to act like that. Chris was right, they should be happy this boy even contacted the police. What if he hadn’t? Sure, the pictures had gone viral at some point, but, as far as Dom knew, no one (except the people that were members of that website, of course) knew just _where_ they had come from. No one else had come to the police to report the website, no anonymous letter, no phone call, nothing. Ian was one of them, but, unlike his friends, his sense of moral and justice outweighed the codex of the board.

The drummer had to make it up to this boy somehow. They didn’t have to become friends (because Dom could never forgive him, even though he wasn’t the one who’d done this to Matt), but he could treat him better and show him that his effort and betrayal (because that’s what it must feel like to him) was more than appreciated.

“Do you smoke?” he asked and retrieved the package of cigarettes from his jacket pocket.

Ian shrugged. “Used to. Trying to stop because mum keeps pestering me about the smell.”

“Ah. Yeah, mothers. Mine has given up on that long ago.”

Nonetheless, Ian took a cig from the drummer. Dom took another one as well, and after they’d lighted up their respective cigarettes they stood in silence, both watching the smoke swirl in the air.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Dom asked after enough silence had passed to make him feel uncomfortable.

“I had to come in for another interrogation. They’re investigating on a case of a stolen music recording and one of my friends is…” he sighed. “He stole it, and they wanted to get some information for me.”

Dom turned to look at the boy’s face. His eyes were downcast, the corners of his mouth casted downward. The fingers around the cigarette were gripping it tightly while the ash continued to fall in the ashtray. Ian’s shoulders were slumped and he looked every picture of misery that Dom felt a slight pang in his chest. Yes, the boy was part of this community of which one member was putting his best friend through hell, but he was also _just a boy_. He was going against people he called his friends and that were worth more than anything else in the world to him. For a moment Dom imagined what it felt like to betray Chris, Tom or Matt, and he immediately remembered his dream. Only dying felt worse.  

Instinctively, he laid a hand on Ian’s shoulder. “That must be hard,” he said. “Are you okay?”

Ian looked up at him with a mix of surprise and gratefulness, then he cast his eyes downwards again. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “Tony is my friend and they’re going to- He might be going to prison. Because of me. Friends shouldn’t do that. I should have- I should…”

“I understand.” And really, Dom did. “I’m not saying that it’s right what you and your friends are doing, but I get how hard it must be for you. It’s the right thing, though, and you can be proud of that.”

Ian slapped Dom’s hand away and furiously dumped the butt of his cigarette in the ashtray. He stared at Dom with blazing eyes, and it was the first time the blonde had seen anything else than fear and shyness in the face of the boy.

“How can you say that? How could I be proud of this? He’s one of my best mates! We’ve known each other for years and he’s been there for me when Dave from the French class smashed my face into the bathroom wall. I’ve ruined his life! He’ll never forgive me. Just because you think you understand what I’m going through, you-“ He visibly deflated at that, turning back into the scared teenager that needed a hug badly.

“I’m sorry,” he stammered. “Fuck, I’m sorry. You’re going through so much worse and here I am, making this all about myself.  I’m so sorry that Beethoven’s doing that to your friend! It must be awful not knowing if he’s still- Fuck, I need to shut up now or I’ll be making it worse.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Calm down, Ian. Breathe.”

Dom laid his hand back on his shoulder and squeezed it softly. The boy was about to have a panic attack, he could see that, and he needed to help him.

“Take deep breaths, Ian. That’s it,” he said and rubbed his shoulder gently.

Taking a couple of deep breaths, Ian calmed down enough not to have a breakdown in front of the drummer. He leaned his body against the wall and closed his eyes. Talking to someone wasn’t his style, and talking to someone whose friend had been abducted and showcased definitely wasn’t any easier. He dropped down to the ground.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Are you okay now?” Dom kneeled down next to him.

“Yeah, I think so. I didn’t mean to be insensitive. It’s all a bit much for me.”

“I know,” Dom said softly. “It’s unfair to have so much pressure on your shoulders. But I’m really grateful that you did what you did. I won’t say everything will be alright because it won’t, but only because of you we have an inkling of where Matt is. You might save his life.”

They stayed in silence while Ian pondered the drummer’s words and Dom was lost in thoughts of Matt. Occasionally, people would pass them and throw them odd looks, but no one dared to say a word. This time, Ian broke the silence.

“Do they know anything new?” he asked. “I know I’m not entitled to any information because I’m only a witness and connected to the website. They still think I could have something to do with this, as well, I’m sure of that, but…” He turned to Dom. “Please. Just… tell me if it’s good or bad.  I don’t want any details, I promise you. I just want to know.”

Dom wasn’t suspicious of him, the boy sounded genuine. But he still had to know for sure. He wasn’t going to give out information, no. Maybe Ian wouldn’t do it deliberately, but there was always the danger of him telling one of his friends, and maybe one of those knew Beethovens5th better than Ian suspected.

“Why do you want to know, though? It’s not like it’s your business. Yes, you feel bad about it, I get it, but it’s not like it concerns you any longer.”

“Because it’s not right!” Ian exclaimed. “This guy is a collector and I adore the items he owns. I love the people I’ve met on this board. I know it’s not right to steal, but giving someone grief because their beloved possession has been stolen is something completely different from abducting someone. Mr Bellamy is a person and even though I don’t know him personally seeing him like this hurts me. He doesn’t deserve this and it shouldn’t happen to him or to anyone. It’s not right, okay?”

Dom nodded at that. Yes, it shouldn’t happen to anyone. But it did happen.  And it happened to the person that was the most important in his life. Just because some sick people tried to one up each other and fight over who had the most impressive collection. This young man, though, wasn’t one of these people. Dom didn’t know anything about what Ian’s collection looked like, and if he had ever stolen something to achieve it, but he wasn’t one of these soulless bastards that praised Beethovens5th for having a talented musician imprisoned (and he’d seen a lot of disgusting comments about that on the first entry). He was a decent bloke, and Dom was sure that, once he overcame his shyness and anxiety, he could find the purpose and friends he was looking for in his life.

At last, he replied carefully. “Not good, not bad. We’re getting there. Things are looking up, though.”

“Thank you.”

As promised, Ian didn’t ask for any details. He seemed content enough with what he got, not only because Dom’s answer seemed to be what he had hoped to hear, but also because Dom had replied in the first place.

Dom slowly got up from his crouching position on the floor and dusted off his trousers.

“I have to get back inside, they’re probably looking for me already,” he said.

Ian got up as well. “Yeah, alright. Thank you for… Thank you for everything. Truly.”

Dom raised his hand as a gesture to say goodbye and headed back towards DI Whitman’s office. Something sprung to his mind, though, and he turned around to Ian again, who hadn’t moved at all, still staring at the floor.

“Hey, Ian.”

At that, the boy looked up. “Yes?”

“Do you play any instrument?”

“I do. I love playing the guitar,” he replied.

“Are you any good?”

Ian was clearly confused. “Erm… I guess I’m alright? I don’t know.”

Dom didn’t know what had gotten into him, but it felt like the right thing to do. “Chris has got your number, yeah? When all of this is over, let’s jam together.”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah,” Dom nodded. “I’m sure Matt can teach you a couple of things. And me too, though I’m not as great as him.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much.”

He saw the unshed tears of gratefulness in Ian’s eyes and knew that it was indeed the right thing. They couldn’t be friends, but he could support the boy and maybe, just maybe, he could help him overcome his fears and start living as the boy he seemed to be under all of it.

“I’ll see you around.” With that, he turned back to Whitman’s office.

He was halfway there, when he heard a voice behind him. “Dom!”

Dom turned around to face Tom, dreading what was to come. The tone of his friend’s voice was already indicating that something had happened. There was an edge of urgency and panic to it, and Dom couldn’t discern if it was good or bad.

Looking into the brunette’s face, however, told him everything he needed to know.

“Shit, Dom,” Tom rasped. He was completely out of breath.

“What happened? Is it Matt?”

At the mention of their friend Tom visibly paled and Dom feared the worst. That was not a good sign, was it?

“There was... Something happened at Matt’s place.”

“What?” Once again, the blonde’s heart rate picked up. What did that mean? A break-in? If yes, then why? Was the kidnapper looking for something specific and couldn’t find it in the Wolstenholme residence, so he went to Matt’s? Or did it have nothing to do with the kidnapper at all and something else had happened? He needed to know.”

Tom didn’t reply and wouldn’t look at Dom, so instead Dom grabbed his shoulder and squeezed it gently, but with enough force to bring his point across. “Tell me.”

At last, Tom took a deep breath and his eyes locked with Dom’s. With words spoken way too calmly for the situation he replied, “A police officer called and said they found a dead body in Matt’s living room.”

The words kept repeating themselves in Dom’s head, while his hand moved inside his jacket to make a grab for the silver chain again. A dead body. He turned away from Tom, staring blankly at the wall behind them. In Matt’s house. A dead body. He blinked once. Twice. His hand fisted around the chain, he couldn’t feel the pain. _No. No, no, no, no._

_Matt._

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a bit of gore in this. Consider yourself thoroughly warned!

“Wha- Is he-” Dom stammered. He was unable to get rid of the lump in his throat.

“I don’t know. Fuck, I don’t know.” The brunette pulled at his hair. “This officer called and I had to find you. I just… I had to find you.”

Dom let go of the chain, which he was still clutching as if his life depended on it, and instead laid his hand on his friend’s shoulder. He could feel Tom shaking and felt a rush of sick satisfaction at knowing that he wasn’t the only one in fear and pain. He squeezed carefully.

“Where’s Whitman?”

“Still in his office,” Tom replied shakily. He looked as if he was about to be sick. “We were talking about the lead when… when the call came.”

Dom turned around and ran. It didn’t matter that he left Tom standing there, the photographer would follow him anyway. It didn’t matter when he accidentally bumped into an elderly lady as he turned around the corner, and it definitely didn’t matter when she shouted after him as he continued his mad race without apologising to her. No, his mind was blank, safe for the one thing that mattered at the moment; he needed to get to the office as quickly as possible. The corridor was so long, it appeared to be neverending. Had it always been this long?

After what felt like forever he finally touched the doorknob to Whitman’s office, Tom nearly bumping into him. The drummer opened the door forcefully and immediately scanned the room for the CI.

“Is it Matt?”

Whitman was located at the window, his phone pressed against his ear, and held his hand up to indicate that he couldn’t talk at the moment before he grunted into the phone. Dom huffed.

“I don’t care! Is it Matt?” he asked again, louder this time. If the CI wouldn’t give him an answer soon he was sure he’d punch him in the face or pass out. Possibly the former, then the latter.

Whitman murmured something into his phone before he ended the call and stashed the phone into his pocket. “Mr Howard,” he began, “I see Mr Kirk has found you, I’m glad. I can assure you, it’s not your friend.”

Relief flooded Dom’s body instantly. He finally tore his eyes away from the inspector and remembered that there were other people in the room as well. Both Dom A and Morgan were still in their seats, Morgan rubbing his right temple while Dom A stared at the table top. Dom’s chest tightened.

“That’s not everything, though, right?” he asked. His friends had to know more, something that wasn’t good news. He looked over to Tom and saw the same helplessness he was feeling reflected in the brunette’s eyes.

“Please sit down first. You look like you’re about to pass out.” With that the CI motioned to their spots at the table and went to the side to retrieve 2 glasses. He filled them with water from the carafe that was placed on the table and handed one each to Dom and Tom.

Dom emptied his glass in mere seconds. His throat felt so dry and raw, his body exhausted and dehydrated for no apparent reason. He wanted Whitman to talk, to explain, but he couldn’t get the words out, the lump having returned with vengeance. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm his nerves, mentally counting to 10. When he reopened his eyes he saw Whitman staring at him expectantly.

“So? Explain,” Tom whispered harshly from next to Dom.

The CI nodded and sat down in front of them. “As you already know, I received a call from a colleague. An anonymous call was placed at 11 o’clock this morning, reporting a homicide in North London. Thompson and his team were assigned to the case to investigate. The person was killed by a shot to the head and placed on the sofa in the living room of Mr Bellamy’s house. For whatever reason they didn’t make the connection to our case until about 30 minutes ago when he immediately called me.”

“Okay…” Dom said slowly. He tried to process what Whitman was telling them.

“From what we know so far, the dead man is _not_ your friend. That much is certain,” Whitman continued and Dom could have sworn he heard relief in the CI’s voice. “We’re still running the fingerprints through the system, but from my colleague’s description it seems like this man is our kidnapper.”

Oh. So that meant…

Tom gasped. He had apparently come to the same conclusion Dom had reached mere seconds ago.

“But, but,” the brunette stammered. “Are you sure? He’s like, our only connection to Matt right now.”

Whitman nodded. “We will be 100% once the body arrives at the morgue and has been identified. Do you feel up to that task, Mr Howard?”

No, he didn’t feel up to the task. He didn’t want to see a dead body, no matter who it was. And… what if it was Matt in the end? The other inspector had never seen the singer, so what if he was wrong? Whitman himself said they weren’t 100% sure. Dom felt a shudder run through his limbs. His body felt as if he had been tossed in a bathtub filled with ice cubes, he was shuddering badly. But he needed to do it, right? Someone had to do it, and he and Chris were the only ones who had seen the kidnapper’s face. It was his responsibility, and he had to see him with his own eyes or he’d always doubt the truth.

So he nodded slowly and raised his eyes to Whitman’s. “When?”

“Tonight or tomorrow morning, whenever you feel up to it. But I figure you’ll want to do this as quickly as possible.”

Dom nodded again and looked at his friends. They looked so devastated and Dom couldn’t hold it against them. He himself felt completely drained and helpless. Days of feeling betterand of hope were destroyed in mere minutes. He felt like he was falling and falling without the ground coming closer. His vision went fuzzy around the edges and his breathing hitched. The drummer closed his eyes and took a deep breath in. He needed their bastion of calm to remind him that there was still hope, that this wasn’t the end. But Chris wasn’t here, and Dom wasn’t strong enough. He breathed out, fingering his mobile phone in his pocket. His fingers itched to dial the bassist’s number, but after taking another breath he decided against it. He could do it.

“Hey,” he addressed his friends and tried to sound as strong as possible. They looked at him expectantly. “It’s okay. This just means we’re getting closer. This is good.”

“How can you fucking say that this is good? If it is the guy, then we’re fucked. How do we find Matt now?” Tom exclaimed and jumped from his seat.

“Once we know who he is we can find his place. Matt could be there. Or at least a hint to his location. We could find something. Anything.” He sounded desperate even to his own ears. Chris did a so much better and more convincing job.

However, his small attempt at comfort seemed to be enough, at least for the moment, as Tom sat down again and nodded. The other 2 nodded their agreement and Dom couldn’t help to breathe a sigh of relief. He eyed the papers on the table, the papers that had given them all a false sense of hope just half an hour ago.

___

_19.08.2013 - London_

The morgue was quiet and Dom didn’t really know what else he had expected. Of course it would be quiet down here, there was no one to make a sound, after all. He stared at his watch for the umpteenth time and grumbled to himself when he found the arms of the clock hadn’t moved at all. His eyes travelled to the sterile wall opposite of him and remained there for a moment before Dom checked his watch again.

After he’d done this 3 more times he cursed under his breath and pinched his nose, a nervous habit he’d picked up from Matt. He needed to calm down. Whitman would be here soon, there was no need to check his watch every 15 seconds. He stared at the door separating him from the nightmare, torn between wanting it to be sealed and never to be spoken of again, and willing it to open up to give him answers. He dreaded what was about to happen, but at the same time…

“Dom!”

The drummer jumped at the voice, clearly not having expected it. But when he turned around it was indeed Chris standing in front of him, not a figment of his exhausted mind. Dom noted that the bassist was quite pale compared to when he’d last seen him just a couple of hours ago.   

“Chris! What are you doing here?”

The taller man leaned against the wall and Dom was immediately concerned. Shouldn’t he be resting? The doctor had given strict instructions and Kelly had been adamant to follow them, even going so far as smacking Dom over the head several times when he had encouraged his friend to get out of bed and join him on the terrace for a quick smoke. But Chris was here now, so did that mean he was feeling better?

“Tom called me,” the bassist replied softly. “Figured it would be a good idea to join you.”

“But you should be resting!”

Chris shrugged. “I’ll be back in bed after this. Had to promise the missus or she wouldn’t have let me go.”

“But…”

Dom sighed. It wasn’t like he didn’t want Chris here, quite the contrary. If he needed anyone right now (except for Matt, of course) it was him. At the same time, however, he wished Chris were still in bed, safe from whatever was going to happen inside that door in front of them. But he knew that Chris wouldn’t go home now, no matter how much Dom tried to change his mind. In that aspect, Chris and Matt were the same: once they had decided on something, they would follow it through until they succeeded. In this case, Chris wouldn’t leave until they knew who the body was.

So instead of starting an argument, he simply nodded. “Has Tom updated you on everything else? Whitman should be here any minute.”

They chatted quietly with Dom updating his friend on everything that had happened today. It was weird to him how much he had to say, considering he’d just seen Chris that morning. Had all of this really happened in just over a couple of hours?

Chris was quiet throughout and nodded once in a while to let Dom know that he was still listening. He wasn’t quite as pale anymore and the rigidness of his body had almost completely vanished, but the blonde could still feel the nervousness radiating from him. He briefly wondered if Chris could feel his anxiety, as well, and how _he_ looked to his friend. Pale, no doubt, and maybe a bit manic with his hair being dishevelled from pulling at it far too often.

Whitman arrived shortly after, and apologised for his lateness. Apparently he had been on the phone with Thompson to get the latest information on the case. He shook hands with Dom first, then Chris.

“Positively surprised to see you here, Mr Wolstenholme. How’s the head?”

“Better. Thanks for asking.” Chris smiled.

The CI nodded. “I don’t want to let you wait any longer. Let’s get inside, shall we?”

With that he pushed the heavy door open and led them inside. Dom went in last and was hit by a wall of cool air and the smell of formaldehyde and death. At least he thought it was the smell of death. He didn’t know what death smelled like, but he was in a morgue, so it had to be that, right? He scrunched up his nose.

They passed several tables on their way deeper into the room. Dom kept his eyes glued to Chris’ back. He didn’t want to see anything that could upset him, he felt uneasy enough with knowing where they were. This room was filled with death and sadness. The dead had had a life before they ended up here. Maybe they had family, friends. His eyes travelled to the side without him really having a say in it and caught sight of a naked foot sticking out from under a white sheet. The drummer immediately shuddered. He wanted to get out of here. He didn’t want to see the body. He didn’t want to see it was Matt.

An elderly man approached them and shook hands with Whitman before the CI turned to Dom and Chris.

“Gentlemen, this is Mr Farrington. He’s examining the body.”

The coroner nodded and shook hands with them both. “If you would follow me, please.”

They quietly made their way to an examination table in the far back. Dom got more and more anxious the closer they came to their destination. He felt like he was going to his judgement, the narrow path through the rows of examination tables like death row. The end of the way would either bring him salvation or lay the path for his ultimate demise.

Farrington moved around the last table on the right and Whitman indicated for them to stand at the side. The coroner explained something to them, but Dom could only hear the pounding of his heart in his ears. He stared at the white sheet where he could make out the contours of a face. _Don’t be Matt, don’t be Matt, don’t be Matt,_ he repeated internally like a mantra.

The white sheet was removed and Dom gasped involuntarily.

His skin was so pale. He’d never been a tan person, but the nearly translucent colour made him look like a ghost. The hair was a bit longer and a lot dirtier than it had been the last time he’d seen him, but it was still the same shade of dark brown. Dom ignored the hole in the centre of his forehead and instead fixed his gaze on a cut that was visible on his left cheek. His eyes were closed, but Dom remembered the different shades of sparkling blue they had held whenever he had smiled or got excited. They’d never sparkle like that again.

He stared into Matt’s lifeless face and felt his world crumble. So many opportunities missed, so many things left unsaid. He was falling through a bottomless pit, the edges of his vision turning black and his-

“Dom?”

The blonde spun around to face Chris, who was staring at him in concern. He drew in a shaky breath and looked back to Matt, but it wasn’t his best friend’s (lover’s?) face anymore. It was too round, the nose was all wrong and the hair was the wrong shade of dark. Dom sighed, his shoulders sagging. Not Matt. His mind had played a trick on him.

He felt Chris lay a shaky hand on his shoulder and, for a moment, Dom contemplated just throwing himself into the bassist’s arms to cry. It wasn’t Matt, and yet Dom felt like his world was crumbling like a card house. Too much stress over too little time lead to him taking several steps backwards in his quest for mental stability.

The drummer took more shaky breaths and seemed on the verge of hyperventilation. Chris was just about to ask if he was okay, when Dom crouched down and emptied his stomach on the morgue floor. There wasn’t much in his stomach, but he just couldn’t stop retching. Chris knelt down next to him to rub his back until Dom had calmed down, hushing comforting words over the back of Dom’s head. In turn Dom held Chris’ hand and squeezed once in a while whenever he felt his friend shaking again. They were both comforting each other as best as they could.

Whitman and Farrington waited patiently until the two musicians had calmed down enough to continue. When the CI felt like Dom wouldn’t pass out, he finally spoke up. “Is this the man from the airport and who broke into your house 2 days ago?”

Chris nodded in reply, apparently unable to speak. Really, what was there to say anyway? The only thing that counted was that this wasn’t Matt.

“Thank you, Mr Howard, Mr Wolstenholme. You may go now.”

Dom shook his head vehemently. He knew that they were only there to identify the body and make sure it wasn’t Matt, but in a way, he was curious. It might have sounded sick to others (and yes, also to himself), but he wanted to know more about this person, even if it were just tiny details. And he wanted to know how this person had died.

Well, it was quite obvious that the bullet in his head had something to do with it. At that, he chuckled to himself and Chris looked at him. He followed the line of his sight and Dom could see Chris in his peripheral view, how the bassist’s features changed and his eyes went wide. The drummer didn’t know if it was because the realisation had finally set in that they were standing right next to a corpse, or if Chris feared that his friend had finally lost the plot. Dom couldn’t really hold it against him considering his mind had just conjured up a picture of a dead Matthew Bellamy on the table in front of them.

“Do you know anything about this guy yet?” Dom asked and was surprised at just how steady his voice sounded.

Whitman shook his head. “No. He’s not in the system and he didn’t carry any ID with him. We’re working on it, though.” He looked from Dom to Chris. “I’m sorry. As soon as I know anything, I’ll let you know.”

Dom smiled weakly at that. He was thankful that someone like CI Whitman was on this case (although he would have preferred if there hadn’t been any case in the first place). He seemed to be sympathetic and kind, and like he _really_ wanted to solve this case, not just because it was his job, but because he felt a duty to the family of the victim. He looked Whitman up and down and wondered what kind of man he might be. Was he a father? He looked like he could be. Had he lost a person close to him, a parent, a partner, and decided he had to join the police so other people wouldn’t have to experience the same pain? That would explain why he seemed to understand Dom and the others so well.

The drummer shook his head. It wasn’t any of his business who Whitman was privately and what had happened in his life. The only thing he had to know was that Matt’s case was in good hands.

The CI looked at his watch before he spoke up again. “I know you want to stay here, Mr Howard. But you can’t do anything at the moment. The best you can do is go home and get some rest. I think Mr Wolstenholme needs that, too.”

“Yeah, I think I’d like that, actually,” the bassist said. He sounded defeated somehow and Dom wondered if it was just the fact that he was still weak from the fight or if Chris was taking this a lot harder than he let on.

Either way, they were both right, even though Dom wished he could just stay and follow the CI’s every step. So he nodded his agreement and left the morgue with Chris, Whitman staying behind to talk to the coroner.

They left the building in a hurry, both too happy to get out of there and get some fresh air. Outside, the first thing Dom did was fumble for his smokes. He took one and offered the pack to Chris, who declined and instead just sat down on a bench close to the building. He stared at the sky as if it held all the answers they needed.

Dom walked over and decided to stand next to the bench to watch his friend. He saw that Chris was deep in thought, but more importantly, he was still shaking. So, like before, he laid a hand on his shoulder and rubbed it gently. He frowned. Chris had definitely taken this a lot harder than he showed. While Dom had recovered from his near breakdown (and wasn’t he a little bit proud of himself for handling this so well) and felt strangely detached from the whole situation, it seemed like Chris wasn’t as lucky. It was never pleasant to see a dead body, no matter who it was, Dom reckoned. Not like he had any experience with that, considering this had been his first body as well, and he hoped it would be the last. Briefly, he wondered if Chris had seen a scene similar to the one Dom had produced in his head, but he discarded that idea quickly. Unlike Dom, Chris was as level-headed as you could be in this kind of situation.

“You okay?” the blonde asked softly.

Chris looked up at him and studied his face for a moment. Dom felt a bit uncomfortable under the scrutiny. He didn’t know what the bassist was looking for. “Yeah. Just… Never mind.”

“No, tell me.”

“Just a bit too much in there. Don’t think I’ll get the smell out of my nose any time soon.”

Yeah, Dom didn’t think so either. He scrunched up his nose when he remembered the burn the stench had left in his nostrils. He took another drag of his cigarette and let the smoke dance in his lungs for a bit. When he finally exhaled he watched the smoke swirl around. To his side he could see people walking up and down the steps of the police station. A child with her dog caught his attention. She was holding a bright red balloon in one hand and patted the little animal with her other. The dog wiggled and buried its face in her shoulder and the girl giggled.

“What do you think of all of this?” Chris asked and pulled him out of his reverie.

“I don’t know, mate. I don’t understand any of this.”

“Why is that guy dead? He was pretty alive when he knocked me out, so I don’t get it.” There was a beat of silence. “He was our only connection to Matt.”

Dom stubbed out the cigarette with his foot. He hadn’t thought of it like that, although it was true. They were back to point zero now with their suspect lying dead on an examination table. But at the same time, it was some form of progress, even though he couldn’t gauge if it was positive or negative. He felt strangely calm about it.

He didn’t know how to put his thoughts into words, especially not without upsetting or worrying Chris, so instead he changed the topic just a bit. “Who do you think killed him?”

“Fuck if I know. I can’t wrap my head around it.”

“Do you think there’s a partner? I don’t think he killed himself.”

The thought had come to him just this very moment. It made a lot of sense. But he didn’t think that someone like this guy would need an accomplice, he seemed more than capable of doing things on his own. There were more theories forming in the blondes head. Maybe someone had found out about what that guy was doing, or maybe one of the messageboard people had killed him to get his precious collection. Or what if this guy had been part of the mafia? He surely looked a bit Italian.

Dom coughed awkwardly. He was sounding more like Matt now, with all his theories and conspiracies. Just one step further and he’d be talking about how the government was behind all of it, no doubt.

Chris still hadn’t replied to the initial question, so the drummer added, “Or do you think it was Matt?”

Chris snorted at that and Dom chuckled quietly. The thought was somehow funny to him. Yeah, he had definitely lost the plot. But so had Chris, apparently.  “And where is the bugger now, then?”

Dom’s mouth turned downwards. He didn’t have an answer to that.

___

_???_

Matt was lying on his back, his body completely rigid with his hands folded on his stomach and his eyes fixed on the small crack in the wall above him. His mind was as blank as one of his unused music sheets and his head felt like a vacuum. There was only the dull and empty feeling, the impact death had left behind.

Witnessing how Suzanne had finally dropped her disguise and shown her true face had changed Matt. So had the violence and utter destruction of Jon’s death. Matt had seen his empty stare, had literally sensed how life had been knocked out of the intimidating man with a single bullet to the head. The wall behind Jon had been painted in all variations of red and grey, splinters of his skull bone sticking in the mess of blood and cerebral matter.

Matt’s first reaction after the initial paralysis of shock had been to throw up and stain the bedsheets with the remnants of his modest breakfast mixed up with sour bile. Then he had stared at Suzanne who had been in the middle of brushing dust off her sleeves. She had seemed completely unaffected although she had just killed a man. A man who had admitted his undying love for her only moments before.

All his senses were numbed, not even the pain in his head and neck was bothering him. It seemed like his synapses had stopped firing from one second to the next, rendering him completely unable to comprehend anything that had happened. Since then, he simply didn’t know how to care anymore. He really wished he could remember because it made him feel so… not human.  

But Suzanne’s cruelty had not ended there, no. She had made Matt help her clean up the mess, had made him scrub the floor and do away with the small lumps of Jon’s brain. He had even cut his index finger on one of the bone splinters. Matt really, really had wanted to cry then. But he hadn’t been able to. And he still wasn’t.

Not even after he’d been forced to roll the incredibly heavy and unyielding body into a carpet and help Suzanne carry it up the two flights of stairs, so she could go and dispose of it. He had just about managed not to dislocate his shoulder in the process and had almost broken down from the sheer weight of his former tormentor.

There was no satisfaction in the knowledge of Jon’s death. Matt realised that there could never be satisfaction in death. Death was final and offered no relief to the deceased’s victims. He would have rather had the man suffer for what he’d done to him. But now it was over. Everything was over.

He wanted to roll onto his side because after hours of staying in the same position, his back was starting to protest, but he couldn’t find the strength to. Instead, he kept staring. The now never-ceasing brightness of the neon lamps at the ceiling would have bothered him greatly, had he tried to sleep. But although his head felt empty, he couldn’t close his eyes for the fear of a replay of the brutal scene that had been carved into his brain.

“Matthew? Wake up,” The Voice, now also known as Suzanne, came through the speakers and it made Matt squeeze his eyes shut.

He hadn’t been completely right. Not _everything_ was over. Not while he was still here, existing (not living, he was sure that part of him was over, indeed) under the roof of this insane and highly dangerous woman. But now… now he wanted it to be over and done with. No matter how, he just wanted out. Even if it meant that she’d have to roll his dead body into a carpet, as well. _Out_ was one of the few words that snuck their way back into his consciousness.

“Matthew!” Now it was clearly Suzanne’s voice, undistorted and a lot closer than the singer had anticipated.

He looked at her as she was approaching his bed, and forced himself into a sitting position. “What do you want?” he asked tiredly and without any desire to keep playing along with her games.

“What do I want?” she smirked. “Well, you are here for a reason. I want you to sit down at the piano and play, obviously.”

His jaw dropped at that. Was she being serious? After everything that had happened she still wanted him to play for her? Still expected him to be able to?

He shook his head fiercely, almost surprised by his emotional action. “Forget it.”

“You know exactly that I can make you do this. And that I will. So why do you have to make this so hard?” She tutted at him and fingered at the the back of her belt. Obviously she was still carrying her gun.

“It’s not hard. It’s simple. I won’t do it.” He crossed his arms over his chest almost petulantly, a move Dom had so often mocked him for.

“Matthew!” Suzanne snapped him out of his thoughts and back to reality, evidently irritated with his behaviour. “You either get up now, sit down at that piano and play or I’ll shoot you and leave you to bleed out on your friends’ doorstep. Wolstenholme, isn’t it? Very pretty house, I have to admit. Howard is there, too. I’d love to see his face upon finding your body there. I bet the kids would love it, too. Finally something exciting to tell their friends at school.”

Matt’s body started to shake involuntarily at the mental image Suzanne had so vividly painted for him. There, he’d found something else that he had not been entirely right about. He _did_ still care, at least in a way. Although it didn’t matter to him how all of this might end for him, he would definitely not allow her to ruin his friends’ lives like that. Because he knew what seeing a dead body could do to you. And imagining something like that happening to them… no. No, that was not an option. Not to speak of all the other terrible things she could to them. The mention of Chris’ kids made him especially tense and scared. He didn’t put it past her to hurt them, too. And that was a thought Matt simply couldn’t take.

So, very, very slowly he started to crawl over to the edge of the bed and obey her demand. There was _still_ nothing he wouldn’t do for his friends and family, even after he’d felt like there was no fight in him anymore. Barefoot and clad in a pair of grey sweatpants and a nondescript t-shirt, he walked past Suzanne without so much as a single glance in her direction and made his way over to the piano he’d come to despise so much. With a deep sigh he sank down onto the piano bench and put his foot on the paddle.

“Now that’s a good boy,” Suzanne smiled and stood behind him. “You know, I have always admired Blackout. It is a very beautiful composition. And I think it is time that you finally play some of your own music again. Maybe it helps you with the homesickness.”

_The evil bitch._

Matt bit his lip in fear of completely breaking down if he really had to play _that_ now. The thought alone was already killing him as it reminded him of the first time he had ever played it to Dom, how they’d recorded it, and that memorable day at Wembley Stadium. He just couldn’t-

“Matthew, what are you waiting for?” Suzanne tapped her feet impatiently and then walked around the piano to look at him properly.

“Why are you doing this to me?” he whispered shakily and kept his eyes locked on the keyboard in front of him.

She cocked her head and pouted at him. “I have already told you many times before. No one understands your music like I do. And no one but me deserves it. It is mine now. I do not like people keeping things from me that are mine.” There was a definite threat in her voice, despite her innocent expression. “Do I really have to remind you of your friends again?”

“No,” he breathed quietly and shook his head weakly.

In this moment he hated his friends. Why did he have to care about them? If he didn’t, she would have no leverage. Well, except for his own life. But fuck, it would all be so much easier if Dom, Chris and the others didn’t mean anything to him. Right now he resented them so much. And not only because he couldn’t stop thinking about them. No, there’s was also the fact that they were out there. Out there and _free_ while he was stuck in hell.

What if they had given up on looking for him? What if they had already forgotten about him? What if his struggle didn’t mean anything at all because they had stopped caring?

He clenched his teeth and closed his eyes, the thought hurting him incredibly. No. No, they _did_ still care. They had to. They were his friends and family and he refused to think that they would give up on him. Even having thought it made Matt’s shoulders sag in utter shame. While he didn’t feel any hope anymore, the thought of accusing his friends of something as horrific as that was simply outrageous.

His fingers were trembling almost uncontrollably when he pressed them down on the keys with deliberation. His body felt stiff and hesitant, just like his mind. But the notes started flowing out from under his fingers, nevertheless. He felt strangely removed upon hearing the familiar melody and found himself able to let the bits and pieces that were his thoughts float just a little freer.

“Matthew,” Suzanne sighed almost happily as she walked back to him again and sat down on the piano bench with her back turned towards the instrument. “You know, I am not doing this to torment you.”

Matt huffed almost inaudibly, but before he could even open his mouth to reply, she cut him short.

“No, don’t even pretend that it is not what you are thinking. But the truth is that I am trying to save you. Just like I saved this beautiful piece.” Suzanne let her fingers slide over the ebony wood of the piano lovingly. “You see, people’s attitude towards music has changed. They consume blindly and without the slightest appreciation. They do not see the joy anymore. Not even the people of the Guild seem to feel as strongly about it as I do.” She shook her head and sighed disappointedly.

 _Guild? What guild? What the hell is she talking about?_ Matt thought in confusion. But he knew better than to interrupt her. Maybe she would finally give him some answers. Instead he tried to focus on the keyboard again so as not to disrupt the music and maybe make her angry.

“The problem is, with the change in people’s attitude, the music changed, too.” Another sigh. “Most of the songs out there are mere products. There is no artfulness anymore. So much music is produced on computers. And that’s just wrong.” She turned her head a little and looked at him. “You have changed, too.”

Matt’s blood ran cold at the prospect what was sure to come.

“You are trying to please the masses and the industry. More people mean more money, and for that purpose you have sacrificed your art. Nowadays you are prancing around the stage like one of those hideous popstars. I thought I couldn’t believe my eyes when I first saw that you even stopped playing the guitar in some songs.”

Yup, he had heard that one before, it was like an old record to him. Usually he didn’t much care, but with Suzanne… He had no idea how stable she really was. Would she kill him in the end because she didn’t like what Muse had done with their music?

“Don’t worry, though,” she went on and, without warning, ran her hand over his forehead to smooth out the creases which had formed there. “I have saved many beautiful pieces before and you won’t be the last.”

Okay… okay, she was definitely unstable. Completely insane and unstable.

“The sad thing is that people do not recognise what I am doing for the music community,” she sighed next to him and took her hand away again, instead resting it on the bench between them. “They think of me as a criminal. An ordinary _criminal_! Can you believe that? _I am a saint!_ ” Her voice rose exponentially and her fingers clenched on the edge of the bench as she tried to control her sudden bout of anger. “A criminal! Me! I practically founded the Collectors’ Guild! But you! You are going to understand me, I am sure of that. You will be grateful because I made you _see_! It is in your nature to resist because you are constantly being tempted. But I will make you see, I promise!”

“But why...” Matt finally dared to speak, “why me?”

“Because you are a genius in your own way. You have strayed, yes. But I will help you find your path again,” she replied, suddenly soft and almost soothing. “For your friends there is no hope. I cannot save them. You are a true artist and once you understand that they don’t deserve you-”

“Leave them alone!” he suddenly burst out, anger and fear boiling in his veins again. Thoughts of how close she had already gotten to them spurred him on as he clamped his hands down on the keys, producing a loud, distorted noise. “That’s why you attacked them, yes? To make me _see_?” He spat the words furiously as he faced her. “Did you want to get rid of them? _You_ don’t understand anything! There would be no Muse without them! If anything happened to Chris, I swear to God I am going to make you suffer for it!” He stood up abruptly, pushing the bench away with the back of his knees and making Suzanne sway for a second.

His eyes were fixed on hers and she looked at him in pure disbelief. “I heard you talking about it and if you or your henchman hurt him or any of the others, you’re going to fucking regret it!”

Suzanne narrowed her eyes at him and got up from the bench, her movements deliberate and smooth. “I thought you were ready, but it seems I was mistaken.” Slowly she reached into her pocket. “It saddens me to see that there is still only one way to make you listen.”

For a second he thought that she was producing her gun, but before he could react, her hand was in his line of sight again. What she was now dangling in front of his face was definitely not a gun. But the way it made his heart pound, it might just as well have been.

“I take it you recognise this?”

It was Dom’s necklace. The small charm was swinging back and forth in front of his eyes and he felt like his knees would give out any moment now.

“What did you do to him?” he whispered, not quite able to find his voice again.

“Nothing. If you behave it can stay that way. It all depends on you,” she replied calmly. “Here, it’s for you.” She dropped the necklace into his hand and while he eyed it, his thoughts went out of the window.

Matt ran his thumb over the fake shark tooth and slowly raised his head again. “You fucking bitch,” he mumbled, his voice trembling with rage. “You fucking bitch!” he repeated, this time full out shouting at her. “If you ever lay a hand on Dom, I’m going to kill you with my bare hands! I’m going to tie you to your fucking piano and rip you apart piece by piece! And to hell with morality because I am so going to enjoy it!”

By that point his face was fiery red and his voice filled the whole room. But Suzanne just stood there, seemingly unimpressed by his outburst. Then she bit the inside of her cheek and obviously struggled with herself over something that was going on her head. As Matt was still breathing heavily and positively glared at her, her lips suddenly quirked into a devious smile.

“There is obviously no use in continuing this conversation now, seeing as you are quite incensed. Take some time to calm down, maybe it will help you see things more clearly.” With that she turned around and swiftly walked out of the room. Matt’s eyes were fixed on the door as she let it fall shut behind her.

“Fuck you!” he screamed after her, his fingers clenching tightly around the necklace, and, finally, angry tears started to form in his eyes. “FUCK YOU!”

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, sorry, sorry this one took so fucking long! It is a chapter in four parts (I think you'll notice soon enough where which part ends). We really do hope you're going to like it! Shit is happening. Again.

_???_

Time was stretching like a rubber band and Matt could never be sure if there were seconds, hours or days passing by. He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn’t bother to pay attention to anything as trivial as time anymore. What did it matter? As long as he was in here, there was nothing he could do anyway. The singer had finally come to the devastating conclusion that there was _in fact_ no way out. Suzanne was always there, somehow knowing his every move.

So… what did anything matter anymore? He would eventually rot away and no one would ever know the whole scale of his predicament. Maybe they’d find him some day in the future when Suzanne was already long gone and the only thing that remained of him would be a worm-riddled corpse. No breathing, no pulse, no thoughts, no life. Nothing.

With a deep sigh he rolled off the bed and padded over to the tiny bathroom connected to his cell. Yes, he’d probably die in here, but that didn’t mean he’d piss himself just because he had no hope left. No hope did not mean no dignity, after all. And it was the trivial things that kept him sane in a way. Sleeping, eating, pissing, taking a shower. Thinking wasn’t one of them but the temporary shut-down of his brain after he had witnessed Jon’s shooting was over now. His thoughts did not go riot like they used to, though, it was more like they were muffled echoes of his once so vivid mind.  

Yes, that seemed about right. He felt numb and couldn’t concentrate on anything for more than a few seconds. But it didn’t bother him. Maybe he had finally resigned himself to the fact that he would never see his friends again. Or daylight for that matter. He wanted to see the sun so badly but there was no use in clinging to that idea. Hope only intensified the unavoidable pain of disappointment and so he tried not to think of anything outside his prison anymore.

After he had relieved himself and washed his hands while pointedly avoiding to look into the mirror, Matt went back into the larger room. What had he been about to do? Ah yes, lie down again. Right now the lights were on and the whole room looked cold and too bright. He had no idea since when it wasn’t dark anymore, but as there was no apparent schedule to it, Matt had stopped counting the seconds.

Suddenly an overwhelming feeling of wrongness overcame him and he felt his body succumbing to its pressure. He sank down to his knees in front of his bed, closed his eyes and leant his forehead against the metal bedframe. This wasn’t new to him, no, far from it. Every once in a while the numbness would fade and make way for floods of emotions and thoughts he had no control over. And just like all the times before, he tried to endure it and let it pass until numbness took reign again. It was hard, so very, very hard because there were still sparks of hope woven into the despair he had to resist. Because he was sure that if he let himself hope again, he would eventually be suffocated by the mental rope he had tied himself.

Matt was rocking back and forth on his knees, trying to shake the images of his friends and of what used to be his life. He cradled his face in his hands and worked hard on getting his breathing back under control. His eyes were stinging already but he didn’t shed a single tear, which wasn’t a sign of self-restraint but of his body’s inability to react appropriately to the storm in his head.

“Matthew?”

He had not heard Suzanne enter the room but he didn’t care much about the woman who was now standing behind him.

“Matthew, you have to calm down again,” she said soothingly. At that his head snapped around and he eyed her furiously.

“Shut up,” he whispered shakily.

“Nah, nah, it’s okay. Here, I made you your favourite,” she continued in her calm voice and held out her hand in which she was holding a mug. “We need to start working again and if you’re all shaken up, you’re practically useless. Come on, take it.”

Matt fixed his eyes on the steaming, dark-brown liquid. It was topped with cream and he was immediately creeped out. The mug bore the logo of Smith’s Café, the place Suzanne worked at, and also their favourite place to go to when they needed a bit of privacy. It was so weird to see this tiny piece of normality, this reminder of what his life used to be, that he couldn’t quite grasp it.

“Come on now. You need to get off the floor.” By that point she started to sound a bit more impatient, but Matt couldn’t stop staring at the mug. It was amazing, even to himself, how such a small object could trigger so many memories and emotions. And how it could, at the same time, represent Suzanne’s betrayal of their trust so vividly.

Suzanne sighed and rolled her eyes at the unmoving singer before she went over to the piano, put the mug on its lid, and then walked back over to Matt. Without hesitation, she grabbed him by his arms and pulled him into a more upright position.

“Pull yourself together, Matthew,” she said sternly. “I thought you were a professional. We have got a video to record.”

For a second Matt let himself be handled by Suzanne. She was a lot stronger than her fragile looks let on and he felt paralysed anyway. Then he snapped out of it, though, and slapped her hands away, straightening himself up on his own. He kept all his “you’re so sick” and “I hope your death will be painful” thoughts to himself and instead got back to his feet. The feeling of being stared down upon by a psychopath made his skin crawl.

“What video?” he asked defensively and crossed his arms over his chest.

“A video to show people your true musical self,” she replied. The ‘duh’ was implied.

“My musical self? It’s dead,” he muttered under his breath and let his eyes wander to the piano he dreaded so much.

“Stop being complicated about this. Don’t you want people to know that you are still there?” she asked and mirrored his position. If this wasn’t the most fucked up situation he could possibly imagine, he would have laughed right then. But it was and so he couldn’t.

With a deep sigh of resignation he nodded slightly, not exactly sure if it was in answer to her question or  acknowledgement of her demand.

“Go on then,” she urged him and gestured over to the piano bench.

“What do you want me to play?” he asked, suddenly getting nervous at the mere thought of sitting down behind the keyboard.

“Whatever you like. I don’t want to impose any restrictions on your creativity,” she replied, her voice sickeningly sweet again.

He swallowed hard when he finally padded over to the instrument and caught sight of the still steaming hot chocolate on top of it. At that he struck upon an idea. What if…? Yes, what if he could…? But… maybe. Maybe it would work.

This time Matt wasn’t as resistant to the hope that was starting to bubble up inside his chest again. If there was one way left, then it had to be this. Quickly a plan formed in his head as he sat down on the bench. Meanwhile, Suzanne put up a video camera near the door, the same place she used to take the pictures from, her renewed smile firmly in place.

He moved his fingers over the keys, only a hair’s breadth away from actually touching them. He had to be subtle. Oh, fuck he had to be so subtle. And subtlety wasn’t really his strong suit, anyone who knew him would testify to that. But to hell with what people knew about him. He would not let that glimmer of hope go too easily. Not if Chris, Dom or any of the others out there might get to see the video Suzanne was about to record. Not if that could possibly mean his escape.

Suzanne had stressed more than one time how she always uploaded all of her latest conquests to this Guild’s website. Such a website _had_ to have been found out about by now. There were actual people who had seen his pictures and he put all his hopes into the hands of those people now, relying on their humanity and hoping that at least one of them had already outed the illegal activities there. If that really was the case, the police - and by extension his friends - had to know. They had to have the means to see this video, too.

 _Subtlety_ , he thought to himself, drew in a quick breath, and looked up at Suzanne again.

“Okay, we are ready to go,” she smiled at him and that alone made him want to throw up instantly.

 _Calm. Calm, calm, calm. Calm, Bellamy!_ Again he nodded and let his eyes stray back to the mug that was now exactly at his eye level. Somehow it could become the key to end his misery. He needed this to work out so badly that he couldn’t concentrate on anything else for a second.

“Action,” Suzanne announced and fell silent after that.

Matt rubbed his face with one hand in order to collect himself before he raised his head again, took a deep breath and started playing. Starlight was his song of choice, not only because he knew every note by heart, but also because it was the same for Dom. If Dom saw this, he’d know. He needed him to know and it was that fact that kept him going in that moment.

His best friend’s necklace was dangling a little loosely from his wrist, he had made sure of that before Suzanne had even put the camera on. It needed to be visible because he wanted Dom to know that it was with him. That he had a part of him that reminded him of their relationship that went so much deeper than just friendship. He willed Dom to know all of that. And just maybe Dom would also know that Suzanne had stolen the necklace. While Matt had no idea about the circumstances of the theft, it might have been possible for Dom to have realised it by now. And even if he wouldn’t make the connection to Suzanne, at least he’d know where to look first.

Suzanne was standing behind the camera, her eyes fixed on the little screen and her smile growing by the minute. It wasn’t actually that hard to make her happy, if you only played by the rules. The problem, though, was that those rules sucked big time. But now, for the sake of everything Matt was attached to (i.e. his friends and in a way also his life), he subdued himself to them. With one little exception. He used her own weapon against her. At least he hoped that he did.

When the melody changed a bit, Matt raised one hand from the keys to take the mug from the lid, the other still busy with hitting the right notes. He made a little show of how he played with one hand and took a sip from the hot chocolate with the other. Then he fingered the handle some more, just for good measure, and eventually put the mug back onto the piano. When he engaged his free hand in the song again, he hit a few stray notes, making the refrain sound slightly off. Nothing too bad, though, Suzanne didn’t even notice, Matt realised with relief. But Dom would notice. He was sure Dom would because he was perceptive like that. Especially when it came to changes in the singer.

Matt could practically feel the eyes of his drummer on his hands when he hit yet another wrong note and made another grab for the mug, taking special care when he let his index finger slide over the café’s logo before wrapping his hand around it to take another quick sip. He knew that the necklace as well as the logo had to be visible in the video. But Suzanne didn’t show any concerns, she was too occupied with swaying along to the song.

It worked. Just maybe it actually worked. If Dom or Chris got to see this video, they’d pay attention to every little detail, he was sure of that. And then they’d hopefully get the hint. It was a small chance, but at least it was a chance.

Then, all too soon, the song was over already. Matt really wanted to repeat his actions a few more times, maybe give some more hints, be a bit more obvious, just to make sure, but the problem was that Suzanne knew the song and he was afraid she would notice if he started to stall. So he fixed his eyes on the cup when he forced the final notes out of the ancient instrument and let his shoulders sag as they sounded through the room. _This was it_ , he thought, _the last chance_.

“Brilliant!” Suzanne crooned after she had shut down the camera again and smiled brightly at him.

“Yeah,” he muttered, one simple word dripping with irony. But, again, she didn’t notice as she was too wrapped up in her own euphoria. Matt had subdued himself to her demands and that was all that seemed to count for her in that moment.

“There were a few wrong notes in there, but really, that doesn’t matter. Creativity is not about perfection but emotions. And you got that part completely right,” she announced happily and for a second Matt’s whole body froze. Shit. So she _had_ noticed after all. But well, obviously she didn’t care. Yes, although he had been very concentrated on getting his message across, the new hope inside his chest had probably made him open up a bit.

 _All the better_ , he thought, closed the lid over the keyboard and emptied his mug in one go. The chocolate tasted better than anything he’d had in what felt like years. It tasted of a time before his imprisonment and, mixed with this new hope, it was the best thing ever. It didn’t matter that it had come from Suzanne. It just didn’t.

He couldn’t differentiate between what mattered and what didn’t anymore, if he was completely honest with himself. His thoughts and emotions had fallen victim to messy ups and downs, but this time, he was sure, he’d done the right thing. It felt like a tiny beacon in a massive storm. And he was surprisingly okay with it. No resistance anymore. They’d either find him or he’d die. He’d surrendered himself to both possible outcomes.

“You know what I’ll do with this?” Suzanne suddenly snapped him out of his musings.

He looked up at her in question just to see that she was waving the small camera into his general direction.

“Upload it to your pyscho guild website, I assume,” he replied drily.

“Clever boy,” she patronised him in her sweetest voice while her face took on an expression of pure satisfaction. “But I’ll also save your precious Dominic with it, after all.”

At that Matt’s whole body went completely rigid. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Killing three birds with one stone,” she grinned. “Firstly, we’re going to attract all the attention we deserve. Secondly, people will think that it was sweet Dominic who stole you from the public. And thirdly, he will be put away so he won’t be able to poison more people like he did with you. Don’t you think he’ll look gorgeous behind bars?”

“WHAT?” Matt cried out and jumped from the bench, just to hit his knee on the solid wood of the piano and curse loudly before he could focus on Ms Psycho Bitch.

She already had her hand on the door handle, her evil smile firmly in place. “I think he’ll be safer there. And now I’m going to make sure the police will find all the evidence they need. Wanna know how?”

Matt shook his head, more in bafflement to what she’d just told him than as an answer to her question.  

“I’ll take this pretty little key of yours,” she produced Matt’s key chain from her pocket and waved it through the air, “go to Dominic’s house and upload our nice little piece of art from there.”

It took him a second to grasp the meaning of what she was about to do. They would suspect Dom of having kidnapped him. They would shut him away. No. No!

“NO! You can’t do that! You’re lying! Stop it! ” he cried out in desperation.

“I have always been honest with you. Why should I start lying now? And you know what I’m capable of anyway. Just look at the necklace I brought you. Your little boyfriend didn’t even notice.” She waved her hand around dismissively.

She was right. There was no reason she should start lying to him _now_. And she surely was far too resourceful for his liking. “I’ll do anything if you just leave him alone!” he changed his approach, his voice sounding utterly pained.

“Too late, Matthew, too late. You knew something like this would happen. And while you’ve been very cooperative today, the same cannot be said about the rest of our time together. Maybe this’ll teach you a lesson.” With those words, she opened the door and took a step out of the room.

“NO!!! YOU’RE A COMPLETE PSYCHOPATH! STOP IT!” Matt shouted, suddenly overcome by desperate anger. He’d never wanted to kill her as much as he wanted to in that moment. “DOM HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS!!!”

“Oh, he has everything to do with this,” she giggled and shut the door behind her in the same instant Matt’s legs had finally found the ability to move again. Although it was already too late at that point as the door was locked again, he couldn’t stop himself from bolting after her anyway. The sheer force of his movement made him crash into the metal door, but the pain of hitting his head on it didn’t stop him from beating his fists against the unyielding barrier between himself and the woman who was so dead set on destroying every single part of his life.

Tears immediately sprang to his eyes as he kept drumming his already bleeding fists against the door and shouted every possible insult after Suzanne. In the same moment his body started to weaken and his eyes fell on the droplets of blood he’d painted the door with, the speakers sprang to life once more.

“It’s no use, Matthew.” Suzanne’s undistorted voice filled the room just as much as it filled his head. “Good night.”

With a creak the speakers went dead again and without warning the lights were turned off, too. Suddenly Matt found himself in an all-consuming darkness again. He turned around, leaned back against the door and let himself slide to the ground slowly. There was no use, she was right. Dom would never get to see the video. They’d imprison him just as she had imprisoned him. It was over.

_____

****

_London – 24.08.2013_

Dom was lounging on the sofa, his ankles crossed and an arm thrown behind his head, and watched a re-run of Sherlock. These days he did nothing much other than that; wake up, eat, watch telly all day, eat, go to sleep and repeat. Chris mostly left him to his own devices, happy to have his own kind of solidity. Kelly, however, had tried a couple of times to get him out of his stupor, clearly worried that he might fall into another hole, but he assured her that it wouldn’t happen and, if it still did, he’d come straight to her. She didn’t entirely believe him, but it had pacified her, at least for the time being, and she left him alone most of the day.

It was true, though. He was fine. Well, as fine as you could be, obviously. It seemed like this nightmare would never end and the pile of terrible things just got bigger and bigger. As if it wasn’t bad enough that Matt had been abducted, it had to be a collector psycho who thought the singer would be a perfect piece in his collection. Then the guy, their only suspect, ended up dead, in Matt’s house, of all places. And now? Where were they standing now?  

Dom thought back to 6 months ago. They hadn’t worried about abduction and death back then. They had worried about the stadium tour and the following festivals and one-off gigs, about a new album, about the future.

_The future._

Was there even a future for them now? He really wanted to believe that, yes, soon it would be alright again, but he was more careful now. He kept this hope, of course he did, but at the same time he tried to prepare himself mentally. For a bad outcome. For a future without Matt.

He frowned at that. Nothing he really wanted to think about, but nevertheless he couldn’t ignore it. He was wondering where Matt was now. His kidnapper was in the morgue, that much was clear, but there was still no trace of him. Dom scratched his newly grown beard (or rather, the poor attempt at growing a beard, as Tom would tease him) and thought of his best friend.

There were so many possibilities to answer this question. First of all, Matt could either be alive or dead. He didn’t know which would be better for him. Dom was sure that the singer had endured some form of torture, not necessarily of physical nature. He _knew_ that it needed more than just a threat to break Matthew Bellamy to be as submissive as he appeared in the most recent pictures, compared to the ones they had started off with. Matt didn’t break, not ever. They’d gone through so many hardships in their lives, mostly together, rarely apart, and even though it was hard Matt had never given up. Not on their dream when people had told them their music was shit and they’d never make it or that Matt wasn’t cut out to be a frontman. Not when Dom had wanted to give up after he’d lost his dad and thrown nasty words and his mother’s china against Matt’s head. Not even when they had worried for Chris’ health and didn’t know what to do.

And definitely not when Matt’s worries seemed to crush his little frame. The brunette wasn’t one to ask for help, which made it a lot more difficult to know when he needed it. But he and Dom were attuned to each other. Matt had always known when Dom needed him, much like a sixth sense. The blonde would have found it downright spooky if it weren’t the same for him. Maybe it was because they used to hang around each other 24/7 during tours and when they had still shared a flat, but he could just _feel_ when Matt needed him, as if he was a part of him. They’d always come to each other, no matter the time of the day or the distance they had to bridge. Dom couldn’t come to him now and magically make things better, though.

For one sick moment Dom considered that it might be a relief for Matt to end up dead in a gutter. The thought scared him, even though he could see where it was coming from, so he had to close his eyes for a moment and take deep breaths to stop himself from going down that road even further.

The other option was that Matt had indeed killed this man or managed to get away. But why wouldn’t he show up then? They didn’t know the whole story and scale of this, hell, they only knew a little part of it. But maybe Matt knew more. For all Dom knew, Matt might’ve known everything and had deemed it unsafe to show his face. Who knew who else was behind this (and there had to be someone else if Matt hadn’t killed the guy in the morgue)? It could be someone just as wealthy and influential from The Guild. He thought of Ian and his interest in the case, but discarded that idea quickly. He wasn’t a master people reader, but he was sure that Ian didn’t have the balls to pull off something like this, especially not to kill someone. His features darkened when Dom let his thoughts wander into conspiracy theories. What if they knew the second person? It would explain how they had managed to track down the band each and every time on their tour (by now Dom fully believed that Matt had seen the bulky man at every concert and in front of the hotel). It could be anyone. A techie or management were the first thoughts that came to his mind. These people knew their schedule by heart, but it could also be someone from the restaurants they frequented, their hairdressers etc. etc. Someone who might have overheard them talking about their plans. There were nearly endless possibilities.

He wished they knew more. The uncertainty was killing him, he already felt helpless enough, but being in the dark made it so much worse.

Dom grabbed the remote and switched the channel when Sherlock had ended and the news were about to be presented. He didn’t think they’d still talk about Matt, it had been too long to be news-worthy for the media (and in that moment Dom realised just _how_ long it had been), but he didn’t want to take any risks. So instead he settled on a nature program about elephants and fingered the sleeve of his shirt.

He could hear keys jingling in the distance which meant that Chris had returned from his visit to the police station. The doctor had given him the green light, so Kelly had allowed Chris to leave the house and resume his work. Dom hadn’t really felt up to the task of going back to the station yet, because he still couldn’t get the smell out of his nose, but Chris had assured him that he’d do just fine on his own. It wasn’t much they needed to do anyway, Whitman just wanted to give them an update. As he hadn’t called them, though, Dom figured there was nothing to give an update about except the personal data of the kidnapper. It was weird to finally have a name for him instead of calling him _The_ Kidnapper in his head all the time.   

Dom watched the baby elephant stumble over to his mother and cuddle up at her feet before he turned off the TV and got up from the sofa. He shuffled over to the kitchen where he could hear Chris and Kelly talking quietly. When the two came into view, his feet halted and he moved a bit to the side to stay mostly hidden.

They were wrapped up in a tight embrace in the middle of the kitchen with Chris’ back to the door. Kelly murmured something into her husband’s ear and then stroked his cheek. She looked worried and tired when her eyes met Chris’ and Dom wondered what they had been talking about just then. A soft kiss to Chris’ lips followed the previous action before they hugged closer.

Dom felt as if he was seeing something he wasn’t meant to see and he didn’t want to breach their privacy like this, so he tiptoed a few steps back just to walk in louder and alert them to his presence. He cleared his throat and coughed into his hand, just for good measure.

When he entered the kitchen, Chris was sitting at the table while Kelly busied herself with stirring the soup that was boiling on the stove. She looked up at him and smiled weakly. He returned the smile, but couldn’t help and wonder if she knew he’d seen them.

He sat down opposite of Chris, his usual position when they sat at the table, and eyed his friend for a moment. Chris didn’t look at him and his unusually evasive eyes told Dom that something was up. Had something happened? Chris would have told him immediately, though, no?

“Alright?” he asked quietly and held his breath.

To his relief Chris nodded and finally looked at him. The moment seemed to have been broken.

“Guess that also means no news?”

“Yeah,” Chris replied. “He only gave me details on Napolitano. Not much else.”

Dom figured that Napolitano was the kidnapper’s name. It sounded weird to him. The man didn’t look like a Napolitano (not that he knew what a Napolitano looked like). He signalled Chris to continue.

“Apparently the name’s Jon Napolitano. Early 30s. British but born in Italy somewhere. Didn’t particularly care about the details. Think Whitman said he didn’t have a wife or kids. No other kind of family left. Worked here and there, construction work, bistro, cleaner, nothing to pin him down.”

“Okay,” Dom nodded along and tried to catalogue the information in his head. It wasn’t information that would help with finding Matt, but it helped to organise them and get a clearer picture of the man behind all of this. Then his mind stopped at a particular detail.

“You said he worked here and there. But these jobs don’t seem like a huge money income to me? How could he afford such a vast collection with so little money? Unless…”

Chris nodded. “That’s what Whitman’s thinking as well. There has to be someone else behind this and Napolitano was just a puppet that they’ve gotten rid of now.”

Something else to add to the pile that was made of nightmares. Yeah, they’d already thought of that, Dom even had done so just half an hour ago, but if Whitman thought the same, and there were clear signs, then it could be true. A second psychopath was dangerous, and if they had no qualms with getting rid of their own partner, he didn’t want to imagine what they’d do to Matt.

Dom sighed. “Does this mean we’re back to zero, though?”

“No, not entirely. The profile they’ve done of the abductor still applies and they could add something to it.” Chris chuckled. “A profile. I feel like someone in these American FBI shows.”

They kept quiet for a bit, Chris looking at the table top, Dom watching Kelly. She had moved around a lot to prepare their dinner and pretended she wasn’t listening in on their conversation. Dom knew her better than that, though. It wasn’t like she went around eavesdropping on people, and, really, she deserved to know as much as everyone else involved. One evening just a couple of days ago, when Dom and Kelly had been alone because Chris had called it an early night, his head aching too much to keep his eyes open, she had told him that she didn’t want to know all the gruesome details because it made her worry so much more. She was a mother and constantly worried about her kids, but knowing that sick people like this walked around freely made her skin crawl and blood run cold, she had said. Dom had been about to apologise for bothering her so much with this, but as if she could read his mind she had spoken up and told him that it was okay because she needed to know if she wanted to take care of her boys. It had taken Dom a bit to realise that _he_ was included in the group of her boys, and it had made his insides feel so warm that he hadn’t been able to stop himself from hugging her tightly.

When the first kids ran into the kitchen he was pulled out of his thoughts. Chris’ features immediately changed to a more relaxed state, and he picked up Buster to say hello properly. Dom plastered on an extra big smile himself and helped Kelly with the soup.

___

After dinner Chris and Dom had ushered Kelly out of the kitchen. She had prepared dinner, so it was only fair that they’d tidy up and wash the dishes.

The mood wasn’t exactly tense, but it was kind of awkward to stand next to each other without talking.  Dom carefully dried each bowl and stacked them up on the counter so Chris could put them in the cupboard afterwards. Once they were done the taller man moved to the fridge and produced a bottle of beer for Dom. The drummer thanked him and took a huge gulp, feeling the liquid flooding down his throat.

Chris opted for a bottle of lemonade and sat down at the table. He eyed Dom, who got the hint and sat down, too. Soft music was floating around the kitchen, the radio still on from when they had started tidying up. Dom fingered the rim of his bottle and softly hummed to himself.

“I wonder how long this will continue.”

Dom turned to face Chris. The bassist was hunched over, holding the bottle with both hands. Once again Chris didn’t look at Dom and preferred to stare at the label of the lemonade, at which he picked with his right thumb.

“Hopefully not much longer,” Dom replied. There was no point in staring at Chris like that, so he moved his gaze to his own bottle. The situation was weird. “Can’t imagine the police taking much longer to find wherever he is.”

“I don’t know, mate. It’s been a month.”

“But Whitman is a good cop,” Dom nodded to himself, “he promised to solve this, so he will.”

A hum was the only reply he got and they resumed their previous silence. Dom wasn’t used to this. People always assumed he was the happy bloke without a single care in the world who always found the right words. However, the truth was that he had no idea what to say to one of his best friends. Chris had supported him constantly and Dom had managed to sponge up some of that power and hope to get through. But now that Chris apparently needed some encouraging words he felt like a failure.

“Wanna jam for a bit?” Chris spoke up.

“Hmm?”

“Wanna jam? I feel like picking up the bass and just play something.”

Dom hesitated. “I don’t know, mate. Haven’t felt like playing since we finished the tour.” In truth, he just didn’t feel like it when the one other thing that made him feel as happy as music was missing.

“Come on, it can’t hurt. Just for an hour or so.”

Without waiting for a reply, Chris got up from his chair and threw the bottle in the bin. Dom followed him, stumbling a bit, and did the same while Chris let Kelly know they wanted to be undisturbed for a bit. Then they both walked down the stairs to the little studio Chris had set up in the house.

“Is my kit still there?” Dom asked, more to make conversation than actually caring.

“Yeah. Haven’t been down there since we hung out together.” Which had been shortly before the stadium tour, Dom remembered.

Chris unlocked the door and they slipped inside quietly. The place was rather small, not comparable to a proper studio, of course, but it served its purpose. Dom looked around and spotted his old drumkit in the back of the room, just as expected. It had served its purpose during the Resistance tour, and Dom hadn’t had the heart to throw it away, so nowadays it served as his hobby drumkit whenever he felt like jamming.

He walked over and touched the crash cymbal timidly, as if the thought of playing the drums was a completely new idea to him. In a way, it was.

He sat down on the stool and overlooked the studio. He imagined sitting behind the drums during one of their gigs, where he could see the whole crowd from his position. He could see the people at the barrier in front of his inner eyes. He could see their ecstatic smiles and hear their happy screams. He could feel the vibrations running through his body, and, suddenly, the idea of playing wasn’t this new to him anymore. Instead, he felt a yearning to go back on tour and play gig after gig until he was so exhausted he could fall asleep on his feet.

He grabbed the drumsticks and balanced one of them on his fingers, twirling it around. Then he hit the toms softly, the resonating sound feeling like an extra heartbeat.

Meanwhile, Chris walked over to his spot and picked up one of the basses. He plugged it in and tried it out for a couple of minutes, just like Dom did with the drums.

The drummer watched his bassist’s movements, content to just enjoy the return of this feeling of being home. He hadn’t expected this or he wouldn’t have waited so long. His fear and pain weren’t erased, but just sitting here was like a comfort blanket. He was wrapped up in something he knew and which connected him to Chris and Matt in more than one way. Matt. He looked over to the spot that the singer usually occupied. The Black Glitter Manson still leaned against the chair, just waiting for her master to return.

“So, what do you want to play?” he asked Chris when he managed tear his eyes away from the guitar.

Chris struck a string idly, thinking about what to play. “Just go through some jams? Can progress from there, I guess.”

They started off with some random jams they’d done over the years, starting from what the fans labelled as the Helsinki Jam and went through some random songs from Nirvana to Rage Against the Machine. There wasn’t any system behind it, just one of them starting and the other joining in.

After about half an hour they decided to take a small break. Chris went to retrieve some water from the mini fridge in the corner, while Dom wiped his face with his arm. He felt a strange mix of comfort and uneasiness. Music was his life, so it was only natural that he felt at ease when playing. But there was the fact that a part of his life that was probably just as big and important was missing. He wasn’t exactly crushed or depressed at the moment, but there was a certain sadness lurking in the back of his mind. Matt was simply missing in every part of his being.

Chris nudged him with a water bottle and Dom took it gratefully. He gulped down the whole bottle in record time, he was that dehydrated from playing just a short amount of time. The bottle was still cold, so he pressed it against his cheek to cool down his face. He then threw it into a nearby bin and gave a pleased sigh.

Chris leaned against the wall behind Dom and drank his water a lot slower than the blonde. There was a soft smile on his face, indicating that the jamming session had done him well. Making music had always been a form of stress relief for them, so it was no wonder that it helped with the built up frustration now. Dom himself felt like at least a bit of the weight on his shoulders had lifted. Still, he couldn’t shake the slight feeling of discomfort and the tiny voice in his head that said it was all wrong.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Chris commented quietly and took another gulp of his water.

Dom watched his crash cymbal move slightly. “Yeah. Was good. Though…”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t know. It’s not the same without Matt. It sounds… wrong.”

Dom could immediately feel the room go cold and tense. The air suddenly felt too charged, too dangerous. He turned around slowly and faced the bassist, not expecting the stony expression he was met with. Chris frowned at him, his eyes narrowed to slits. Had he said something wrong?

“Jesus fucking Christ, Dom!” Chris exploded. He threw the bottle against the wall. “It’s always the fucking same, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“It’s always about Matt with you. Matt here, Matt there. Does it even matter that I’m here?”

What the fuck?

“Of course it matters. What kind of question is this?” Dom was confused. Where was all that coming from?

Chris snorted. “A good question. I haven’t heard anything from you but whining about Matt for weeks now. I’m sick of it.”

Dom rose up from his stool, his anger rising with him. What the hell did Chris think he was doing? Of course Matt was his number one topic. “You do realise that Matt’s been abducted? So excuse me for being worried sick and missing him.”

“I don’t fucking care.”

“What do you mean, you don’t fucking care?”

Chris sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. For a moment he looked tired. The look was quickly replaced by the angry face Dom had seen when he had first turned around, though.

“It means that I don’t fucking care about your worries or about Matt. I’m done with all of this.”

Dom gasped. “ _The fuck_ did you just say?”

“I’m done,” he said and moved away from the wall. Dom jumped into his path to block him from leaving. “Move.”

“No,” the drummer shook his head. “I’ll move once you stop saying this bullshit. You don’t give two fucks about Matt anymore, is that what you’re saying?”

“You got that right.”

“Are you out of your mind?!” The bassist had to be joking, right?

“No. No, I think for the first time in a while I’m seeing clear. It’s always been about him, hasn’t it? His constant need to be the centre of attention. Well, he definitely got that now.”

The blonde’s hands automatically turned to fists at his sides. His anger was boiling hot, his vision turning a bright red mixed with blinding white. His body was shaking madly now and if he wasn’t careful he knew he’d lunge at Chris and beat the living daylights out of him. Air rushed through his nostrils.

“Go fuck yourself, Chris. Seriously.”

The bassist laughed at that. His laugh sounded somewhat bitter and too dark for his voice. It sounded like someone else was standing in front of Dom. “Did I hurt your feelings? Do you have to jump to Matt’s defence, just like you’ve always done?”

“I don’t have to jump to anyone’s defence,” the drummer snapped. “I just can’t stand your bullshit talk. Pretending that Matt doesn’t matter to you. We both know that’s not true.”

“Things change,” Chris shrugged and moved passed the frozen blonde, “and at this point he doesn’t. I’m _glad_ he’s gone, he-“

Suddenly the bassist found himself being shoved into the wall by a very furious Dom. The blonde held him with his underarm on Chris’ chest. He wouldn’t be able to hold Chris if he decided to use his strength, obviously, the taller man could push him off any time, but it did the trick for now. They were standing nose to nose, with Dom standing on his toes to match Chris’ size. He was so tempted to let his fist connect with his friend’s face, to make him hurt and beat him until he took back every word he’d uttered in these past minutes, but his fist halted.

He’d done the same just a couple of weeks back. He’d said and done things he didn’t mean, just to relieve his pain. He had wanted to make others hurt just as much as he had been hurting and had said things to Chris that still made him want to puke whenever he thought of them. He’d picked up that Chris was taking this a lot harder than he let on, he just hadn’t expected it to be this bad for him, too.

“You’re just saying all of this because you’re angry and desperate, I get it,” Dom said calmly. His anger had ebbed away just as quickly as it had come. The bassist didn’t reply.

Dom let go of him, but his eyes were still trained on Chris’ face. He continued just as calmly, “You hate the helplessness and the not-knowing. And because Matt’s the reason why it’s happening, you want to hate him for it.” He grabbed the taller man’s wrist and squeezed gently. “I understand. It’s okay.”

And just like that, Chris’ defences crumbled.

“Shit.”

His shoulders sagged and his whole body shook. Chris looked up at the ceiling and Dom could see moisture threatening to leak from his eyes.

“Shit,” Chris swore again and furiously wiped at his eyes.

Dom just stood there and watched him because he didn’t know what to do. He wanted to ask “why didn’t you tell me you felt like this?”, but he really had no right to demand an answer to that. There had been signs that, maybe, Chris wasn’t as level headed and cool as he appeared to be. Their talk after Dom had apologised, Chris’ reaction after the morgue, and the sadness in his eyes just this evening had been the biggest warning signs and they were now ringing in Dom’s head. Too late, of course. He didn’t want to find excuses, but he wouldn’t feel guilty about it, either. There were too many bad feelings around them now, he didn’t need that, too.

“Do you want to punch me?” Dom asked.

“What?”

“Dunno. Figured it might help.”

At that, Chris actually laughed and Dom relaxed. His laugh sounded much more like Chris again, warm and friendly.

“Thanks, mate. But I’ve done that already and let me tell you, it wasn’t beneficial to your face.”

They chuckled together until Dom realised that he was still holding his friend’s wrist. He let go of it and awkwardly stood there.

“Are you feeling better now, though?”

“I want him back so badly,” Chris whispered so quietly Dom had to strain his ears to hear it.

He nodded. “I know, me too.”

Dom moved to stand on Chris’ right side, with his back against the wall, and then slid it down to sit on the floor. Chris raised an eyebrow at him and Dom couldn’t help but grin sheepishly. He signalled him to sit down as well, and Chris followed him. They were mostly blocked from view by the drumkit. So if anyone came inside now, they could collect themselves before they had to face whoever it might be. That also meant that they could talk openly now.

“I’m so fucking scared. That guy is dead, so where is Matt now? What if he’s dead, too? Or injured and left to die in his dirty fucking prison?” He punched his own thigh in frustration.

“You said yourself that whoever is behind this is a collector and wants him in their collection. So I don’t think he’s dead.”

“You don’t know that, though. It could have been him in the morgue, it-“ Chris stopped himself.

Dom swallowed. This was all so new, with their roles switched like that.

“When we were in the morgue and had to identify the body,” he started, “I had a moment where I saw Matt lying there. Dead, with a bullet through his skull.”

He heard a gasp from his side and couldn’t help but cast his eyes downwards. He picked at one of his shoe laces and recalled the whole situation in his head. The only thing that ranked even higher in his list of terrible dreams he’d had since Matt was gone was the nightmare where Matt had told him that he hated him and had then died in his arms.

He shuddered, then collected his thoughts again before he continued, “But it wasn’t him. And that’s good enough for me. At least for now.”

Chris hummed and they fell back into silence. It felt all too bizarre to Dom, how he suddenly was the strong one and Chris needed support. After his breakdown he’d worked hard to get to the point Chris and the others had already been at because he didn’t want to put any more pressure on them. But now he had to realise that it was all a façade, and that underneath Chris was just as broken as he was. Instinctively he wrapped an arm around his friend’s shoulder. In turn, Chris pressed his side to Dom’s and moved a hand to Dom’s left knee to squeeze it. It was a similar picture to nearly 2 months ago; same situation, same position, same people. The only difference was their role reversal.

“When he’s back I’ll cook him pasta. His favourite.”

It was a silly thought, but Dom liked the turn of events in their conversation. Talking about Matt coming home was nice.

“Oh please, Chris,” he laughed openly in the bassist’s face. “You can’t even heat up canned soup!”

He was rewarded with a punch to the arm, not hard enough to bruise, but enough to hurt for a moment. He let out a loud “ _ouch_ ”.

Chris grumbled, but he couldn’t stop the smile from breaking through. “Fine. Kelly can cook then. She loves to cook anyway, especially for him.” Then he looked to the wall that had been hit with the bottle. “I guess I should clean that up.”

They both got up from the floor, first Chris, who held out his hand to help Dom up and then started to tidy the room. While Chris retrieved another towel to dry the wall, Dom walked over to the black guitar. The instrument wasn’t plugged in, but Dom moved his fingers to play a few chords, anyway. The room stayed eerily quiet and Dom couldn’t help but think that this was a perfect metaphor for their current situation.

He was alerted by a knock on the door. When he looked over he saw Kelly peaking inside the room. She looked uncertain somehow.

“Um… CI Whitman is here. He… wants to talk to Dom?”

The blonde searched for Chris and found him looking just as confused. Just him? Weird.

Anyway, they quickly packed away the remaining stuff and then moved to the living room together where Whitman was already waiting. However, he wasn’t alone. There were 2 officers flanking his sides, which only added to their confusion.

“Mr Howard, Mr Wolstenholme,” the CI greeted them grimly. He didn’t extend his hand in greeting.

They both nodded their hello and Chris asked, “What’s going on? Are there any news?”

“Kind of,” he turned to Dom. “Mr Howard, I must ask you to come with us to the station. Only you.”

“What?” the drummer asked, clearly confused. “Why?”

Whitman nodded at one of the police officers, who then pulled out a pair of handcuffs and walked over to Dom. Chris moved to stand between them. “What’s going on? Whitman!”

“I’m sorry, Mr Wolstenholme, but I must ask you to let Mr Howard go with us. Don’t make this any more difficult and let us do our job.”

“I’m not making this difficult, you-“

“Chris.”

The bassist turned around to Dom, who softly smiled at him and walked past him.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Dom shrugged. He tried to appear as calm as possible, but in truth he just wanted to drop to the floor and curl up in fear. “It’s fine. I’ll see you later.” He moved to the coat pegs and retrieved his leather jacket.

The bassist huffed and crossed his arms, but let Dom proceed. He couldn’t stand still, however, as one of the officers produced a pair of handcuffs to tie Dom up. Whitman was faster than him, though, and stopped his subordinate’s hand before Chris could even say a word.

“That won’t be necessary,” he said. “Mr Howard won’t pose a threat or try to run.” He nodded at the drummer who nodded back at him.

Dom risked another glance at Chris who looked just as confused and lost as Dom himself felt, and then walked out of the door towards the police car, followed by Whitman and the two officers.

_____

****

Whitman didn’t talk much during the car ride to the police station. He only gave two or three orders to his subordinates and completely ignored Dom’s request to tell him what was going on. Dom then tried to talk to the other officers but they remained quiet as well, their stony faces cast forward and pretending to not hear his pleading.

When the car stopped he was ungently pulled out of it and got shoved up the stairs. Dom was glad Whitman had refrained from restraining him, because he could see several people watching them, some of them even wearing Muse shirts. _That would have gone down well,_ he thought bitterly. Their band had gotten enough publicity as it was.

Whitman walked in the front while the two officers walked closely behind him, probably to make sure he wouldn’t bolt for the door or find another way to escape. They walked down the familiar corridor to Whitman’s office, but then turned a corner and headed down somewhere else. Dom was confused, but didn’t bother to ask where they were going. He wouldn’t get an answer anyway.

After what felt like hours for Dom, but was most likely only a few minutes, they stopped at a door. Whitman opened it and motioned for him to go inside. _Ah, still no talking, then._ When he didn’t move immediately, the taller of the two officers pushed him inside and guided him towards a chair located at a table in the middle of the room.

“You could just have asked,” he growled at the officer.

He was forced to sit down before one of his hands was handcuffed to the table. He huffed at that.

“That won’t be necessary.”

The tall man’s face remained blank when he calmly said, “Precaution.”

Well, at least something more than silence. The officer exited the room and Dom was left to his own devices. With nothing else to do, he took in his dimly lit surroundings.

The walls were whitewashed and appeared to be solely made to intimidate him. There were obviously no windows, nothing he could fix his eyes on for longer than a second or two, and so his gaze kept wandering. The only thing that broke the perfect white was the old school one-way mirror directly in front of him. It looked pristine and crept him out just as much as the rest of the situation did. Maybe there were people on the other side of it, watching him and murmuring about what was going to happen to him.

He felt like a serious offender with the cold metal cuffing his right wrist to the table and a room on the other side of that mirror that was most likely full of policemen who wanted to see him sweat. For what exactly he still didn’t know and no matter how much he racked his brains, no plausible explanation presented itself.

It was that moment when one of the younger officers entered the room, pushing some sort of trolley with a TV set through the door and letting in some brighter light from the hallway. Dom watched him silently as the guy gave no indication of wanting to talk. The silent treatment started to grate on his nerves massively. The TV was placed in the right corner of the room so it was out of Dom’s reach. The two chairs on the other side of the table, standing with their backs to the mirror, would need to be turned a bit if the people who’d occupy them at some point in the near future (at least that’s what Dom thought was about to happen, he’d seen enough American cop shows to last a lifetime) wanted to get a good look at the screen, too.

 _Oh, the cop shows!_ Dom looked around when the officer had left the room again. Maybe it was just some TV hoax but usually there were cameras in the interrogation rooms instead of these mirrors, weren’t there? He wasn’t exactly sure because, firstly, he had never been in one of these rooms before (and he was grateful for that, although there had been one or two close calls in the past) and, secondly, you never knew how accurate those TV shows really were. Some still used the mirror because, quite frankly, they were frightening.

Dom could see his reflection on the stainless glass. He looked just as pale and scared as he had assumed, but, in his defense, he was probably also as composed as the situation allowed him to be. It was ridiculous really, but that little thought sparked a bit of pride in his chest. No matter what this was going to be about, he knew that he’d done nothing wrong and that they would ultimately have to let him go again. He _wasn’t_ the serious offender they treated him as, after all.

Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being confined, trapped even. He remembered some of the pictures from the Guild’s website that had been taken of Matt. The room in the background had never been of much interest to him, seeing as this was about Matt, after all. But now he remembered how similar it actually was to his current surroundings. Plain and cold and lifeless. It was weird but he felt like he was somehow supposed to live through a milder version of the nightmare his friend had been forced into. A much, much milder, old crime film version, but still.

After half an eternity, Dom heard the click of the door again and turned his gaze to watch it open. A tall man he didn’t recognise entered first. His black hair was cropped short and his sharp green eyes immediately locked with Dom’s. He seemed to be rather young, although the suit made him look more serious and older. Whitman was the second person to enter. He closed the door and then retreated into the corner, while the other man stood in front of the table, examining Dom with an inscrutable glare. Then, wordlessly, he sat down in one of the chairs and placed a folder on the table before the quiet staring continued.

Dom felt extremely uncomfortable under the close scrutiny. He didn’t even have the slightest idea who this man was. A police officer, no doubt, but what did he want from him? He looked over to Whitman in hope of getting at least one answer to the many questions swirling in his head, but the CI pointedly _didn’t_ make eye contact with him as if he was uncomfortable himself. The blonde’s eyes lowered to the table.  

“Mr Howard, my name is CI Thompson. I believe you already know CI Whitman?” the man, Thompson, spoke up and gesticulated to the corner where Whitman was standing. Dom nodded, then tried to remember where he’d heard the younger CI’s name before.

Ah, yes. He was the officer in charge of the case concerning the kidnapper’s, Napolitano’s, death. He remembered the name from when Whitman had told them about the body. His back straightened. Were there any news?

“Mr Howard, how would you describe your band?”

“Huh?”

Dom cocked his head. That question had come completely out of the blue and was, in fact, very confusing. What did that have to do with anything? He looked at Whitman again, who had finally fixed his gaze on the drummer. His expression was unreadable, though.

“Um… Pretty good? We’ve been doing this for over 20 years now and it’s still a lot of fun. Not always easy, but worth it. Our music has changed a lot over the course of our career, but that’s not very surprising, I guess. We’ve changed a lot, after all. Why?”

Thompson nodded at him before he observed the drummer’s face again. Dom felt like an animal in that moment. The uneasiness was constant now, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wouldn’t like what was going to happen.

“What about your band mate, Matthew? How would you describe him?”

“He’s…” he started. What was he supposed to say? “He’s eccentric. A walking and talking ball of unceasing energy. It’s not always easy with him because he’s a big perfectionist, but we manage alright. I don’t understand what that’s got to do with anything, though?”

Slowly, the CI opened the folder he had previously thrown on the table, and extracted something from it. He slid the paper, a photo, over the table for Dom to inspect. The drummer leaned over to get a better look and instantly felt his body freezing up.

The picture didn’t show much, just a person’s wrist. However, tied around it was an item Dom knew all too well and had already missed dearly.

“That’s my necklace! Where did you find it?”

“I think you know exactly where we found it,” Thompson replied calmly. He took the picture and moved it a bit to the right, not exactly out of reach, but enough to make room for more pictures or other items in front of Dom.

The CI then pulled a CD case from the folder and held it out to Whitman who took it from him and walked to the TV set. He inserted the CD into the player underneath the screen and pressed play. The monitor flickered to life and Dom’s heart skipped a beat.

There he was. He’d lost some weight and his hair was slightly longer, curling around his ears, but it unmistakably were his blue eyes looking down at the keys in front of him. _Matt_.

Dom felt an incredibly strong longing course through his veins. This was different from looking at pictures or thinking about the singer. Just seeing him, _alive_ , made Dom’s chest ache and swell at the same time, but seeing him breathe and move threw him on a rollercoaster of emotions. There wasn’t enough time to take it all in; the cut on his temple, the split lip, the clean shaven jaw, the soft curve of his neck, the plain black Queen tee that looked like the one the singer had nicked from Dom years ago and was now mainly used to sleep in, Dom’s necklace wrapped loosely around his thin wrist. Dom wanted to reach through the TV screen and just pull him into his arms.

The rollercoaster of emotions took a sharp turn to the left and then just down, down, down into a dark pit on high speed when Matt’s fingers finally moved and the soft melody of Starlight started to fill the otherwise silent room. The longing only intensified when the drummer remembered the last time Matt had played that particular song, for him.

Dom watched transfixed as his band mate played highly concentrated and calm, much like he did at home. He failed to hit the right notes several times, but his face remained soft, his fingers idly ghosting over a cup that was standing on top of the lid. That was weird. Matt would never fail to play this song perfectly under any circumstances, Dom knew that, and the singer was way too hard on himself to simply accept such mistakes. Something was off.

The video ended abruptly when Matt had finished playing. The CD was extracted from the player and put back in its designated case. It then landed right in front of Dom on the table, clattering on the shiny, wooden surface. Thompson stared straight into Dom’s eyes and the drummer realised that the CI must have observed him during the video, as well.

“The video was uploaded to the website last night,” he explained. “We were able to track the IP easily, because the uploader took next to no precaution this time.”

Thompson stopped talking for a moment to let the news sink in. Dom’s heart seared with hope. If they had finally tracked down the uploader, then it meant they knew where Matt was, right? But that didn’t explain why he was sitting in an interrogation room with his hand tied to the table. Unless…

“It was uploaded from your house, Mr Howard. We found the video on the hard drive of your laptop.”

All of a sudden the room was too cold. Dom felt as if he was being thrown into icy water, his body temperature falling rapidly. The blood in his veins must have stopped flowing, as well. Could blood even freeze? Was that the reason? The CI couldn’t mean what Dom thought he was implying, could he?

Thompson placed a wallet in Dom’s line of vision and opened it to reveal an ID. Upon further inspection, Dom could see that it was the kidnapper’s, his angry face staring back at him with blank eyes.

“We found this on your coffee table. Care to explain how it got there?”

“I… I don’t know,” Dom stuttered. This had to be a joke. A terrible, terrible joke. “I haven’t been to my place in weeks. I have nothing to do with this.”

“When did you take it from him, Mr Howard? Before or after you put that bullet in his head?”

“What? No. No!”

“Tell me, why did you do it?” The CI leaned back in his seat. His eyes wouldn’t leave Dom, though. “Did your friend start making decisions without you? Your band is massive and decisions that influence all of you should not be made by one person. Maybe you needed to silence him?”

“What are you- No, for fuck’s sake, what are you talking about?”

Dom pulled at the handcuff in fruitless effort. This was all kinds of wrong. Why were they accusing him of doing something like this to Matt? Didn’t they know that he meant the world to him? He needed to calm down or he’d black out soon, but his pulse didn’t seem to get the memo.

Suddenly, Whitman’s soothing voice cut through his haze. “Now would be the right time to call for a lawyer, Mr Howard. You should-”

“No, no, no,” Thompson cut in. “We don’t need a lawyer here.” He jumped up from his chair and walked around the table so he could then sit on it next to Dom. With his arms crossed, he leaned over to get closer.

“You know what I think happened? Matthew started to get too powerful, taking over the whole band and making decisions you couldn’t accept. You needed to do something, didn’t you? So you hired this man to kidnap your friend and imprison him in a dark room.”

“No, I wouldn’t-” Dom started, but the CI wouldn’t let him speak up.

“He took care of Matthew while you played the worried band mate. He uploaded the pictures for you and gave you the required alibis. What did he do to change your plan? Did he fuck up at your friend’s place? He didn’t do what you wanted him to do, so you had to get rid of him before you were found out.”

“Stop it.”

“You shot him, used your spare key to dump him at Matthew’s place and then pretended to be all shaken up. There are no other fingerprints than yours to be found. It’s quite clear to me that you have done a masterful job, until now that is. What I want to know is, where is Matthew?”

“I didn’t do anything! Stop it. Stop. Please,” the drummer begged and once again pulled at his restraints. He needed to get out of here, away from the accusations. His body screamed at him to get the fuck away.

“Not until you tell me where your band mate is,” Thompson shouted and hit the table with his flat hands. He used the action to push himself up and rise from the table, his right hand shooting out to grab Dom by the hair. He pulled at it so Dom had to look up at him. “I wonder where he got that cut on his temple from? Did you push his head against the wall, over and over again, until he stopped begging you to let him free?”

“No, no, no,” Dom whimpered quietly. The mere thought of someone doing that to Matt made his insides turn, but imagining it was _him_ doing it brought tears to his eyes. He could practically hear Matt’s voice in his head, begging him to stop, pleading him to let him go home. “No…”

He could hear Whitman shouting at his colleague in the background, but it didn’t really matter. By now he was a crying, shaking mess. Weeks of trying to compose himself and getting through this with the least possible damage now became futile as the accusations hit him upfront. Matt was being abused, tortured, and he was the prime suspect. He thought nothing could be worse than his nightmares, but this surpassed every single one of them.

Thompson let go of his hair, but Dom didn’t have the energy to move his head anymore. He stared at the ceiling and let the tears fall freely. Weakly, he whispered, “He’s my best friend.”

“Is that why you haven’t killed him, yet? You locked him away so he’d be out of the way, but you couldn’t bring it over yourself to kill him. Or is it something else?” He cocked his head and observed Dom again, before a smug grin appeared on his face. “You wanted to teach him a lesson, didn’t you? Show him that he couldn’t do as he pleases. But it’s gotten out of hand. You didn’t expect him to resist and you definitely didn’t expect anyone of those criminals to go to the police.”

“Please…”

The CI sighed and put a hand on Dom’s shoulder. If the drummer had had any energy left in him he would have pulled away, as much as the handcuffs would let him. The touch was unwanted and uncomfortable. His shoulder burnt.

“I understand that, Mr Howard. It can’t be easy to be pushed aside. Especially after such a long time together. You had to show him that you were serious. Napolitano was just collateral, right? You’re no cold-hearted killer, I truly believe that.”

He walked around the table to collect the evidence and put it all back into the folder. He made a show out of it and took his time, just so Dom could watch him move around and think about his confession.

“Did he want a solo career?” Thompson continued and waited for a reaction. The only movement Dom made was a roll of his head in Whitman’s direction. “He wanted to leave you guys alone at the peak of your career. And you gave him that. He’s got the attention and you can keep your face. It’s a win for the both of you, right?”

Finally, Whitman pushed himself off the wall and laid a hand on Thompson’s shoulder as a signal to move away, showing that he wouldn’t accept any protest.

“Dominic,” he said softly and Dom looked up. He felt so lost and broken in that moment, begging for salvation. “You need to call a lawyer. Now. You have to say it.”

Whitman looked so trustworthy, a clear contrast to the other CI. Dom remembered how often he’d thought of Whitman as an ally and even now, when the police apparently thought he’d done the unspeakable, he still tried to support the blonde.

Dom had been a fool. He’d thought it was enough to be innocent. That he didn’t need a lawyer simply because the truth was that he’d done nothing wrong. He should have listened to Whitman before. He was definitely listening to him now.

He closed his eyes and could only see Matt’s face, one moment smiling, the other moment crying. Pictures of pain and pure joy. Everything just blending together, much like the voices in his head. He could hear Matt calling his name.

“I… Yes, I want to call a lawyer.”

___

Dom walked down the corridor next to CI Whitman. His head was full of fresh memories from the interrogation. They hurt, if he was completely honest. How Thompson had questioned his loyalty towards Matt and, by extension, the band. The mere thought of causing Matt any kind of pain was poison to his already battered heart. Fortunately the elder CI had stood up for him when he had needed it most. Calling his lawyer had been the smartest move of the day and he was still a little ashamed that he hadn’t come up with it himself. Being innocent was no guarantee for anything, especially not with a dead set, young CI who was on a murder case. He couldn’t even really blame Thompson. If he was in his place he would probably have done the same. Even the most absurd lead was better than none at all.

His lawyer had advised him not to talk to Thompson again, and, if possible, to none of the other officers. She had also told him that, yes, the evidence was weighing against him, but she had promised to do everything in her power to get him out of his temporary custody as quickly as possible. An empty promise, he knew that. There was nothing she could do. She didn’t have any other resources than the police had, so maybe she could stall them a bit, but that was probably already the end of it. Not talking to Thompson was a big improvement, though. He had seriously felt like breaking down under the policeman’s questions.

“Mr Howard, I am sorry that you have gotten pulled into this,” the older man suddenly broke the silence.

“I shouldn’t really talk to you, should I?” Dom mumbled, but there was no spite behind his words.

“Probably not, no,” the CI sighed and threw him a quick glance.

“I swear to God, I have no idea how all that shit got into my house.” Maybe opening his mouth now was a bad idea, but he trusted Whitman. He really did. If there was anyone who could help him, it was him.

“And I honestly believe that,” Whitman nodded. “I do. But my hands are tied here. Napolitano’s not my case… and Thompson may be a bit… straight forward, but he’s only doing his job. And the evidence… well.”

“I know, I know…” Dom sighed and tried to avoid getting snappy. “I already went through all of that with my lawyer.”

For a moment they fell silent again. The blonde knew that the CI only wanted to help. And he had already done that. After all, he had insured that Thompson didn’t sent his sorry arse to prison straight away. Rationally Dom knew that he couldn’t have done that, but Thompson had looked pretty determined and like he’d go to incredible lengths to put him away and close the case.

“Is Thompson only after me or… I mean, is he also investigating against Chris?”

The thought genuinely scared him. Chris was already going through way too much at the moment, as his recent breakdown had shown to the blonde. He didn’t think the bassist would pull through now. Not to mention what it would do to his family. He didn’t want to see Kelly cry and beg for the police to let Chris go. No. He’d rather give a false confession than send his friends through this ordeal.

Whitman, however, shook his head. “He’s only trying to get you. He did try to put Mr Wolstenholme in the position of a possible partner, but there’s no evidence to back this up. He’s safe, don’t worry.”

Dom let out the breath he’d been holding and relaxed a bit. This was all a nightmare, but at least it was only his nightmare. It would probably seem weird to bystanders, but if it came to it, he’d throw his life away just to keep his friends safe.

“Mr Howard… Dominic… is there anything - and I mean even the smallest idea could be helpful here - anything that could refute Thompson’s accusations? I know, watching the video of Mr Bellamy must have been painful for you, but did anything in it strike you as unusual?”

Unusual? Had Whitman really just asked him that? There was literally nothing _usual_ about this video to begin with. Quite frankly, the drummer was still completely shaken up by it. Seeing Matt like that… no. Just no.

“Think, Dominic. Even the smallest detail might help.” Whitman misinterpreted Dom’s prolonged silence and so the blonde tried to focus. “Anything that could give a clue or help us figure this out.”

“Yes, well… when he… when he played he hit a few wrong notes. He never does that. I mean, of course he sometimes plays the odd bum note. But not like that. It did strike me as odd before, but thinking about it now… It has to mean something, I’m sure.” Suddenly Dom got a bit excited. Maybe it was some sort of code? With Matt that idea was well damn possible.

“He’s under constant pressure there, maybe he just… well, maybe he just couldn’t concentrate. Dominic, anything else?” The CI really wanted to do more for him, Dom knew that. But he didn’t know Matt. Even at his worst he could still play Starlight with both eyes closed and his hands tied behind his back. There had to be a reason for his fuck ups. What was so unusual that would justify this? _Think. Think, Dominic!_

“That cup!” he burst out. “The cup! The one on the piano lid!”

“Yes, we already analysed the logo. It’s from the café you use to frequent, right?”

“Right! Matt never ever drinks when he plays. He does that before or after but never during a song. Never. It’s his golden rule. What if… what if he wanted to draw attention to it? The cup, I mean?”

“That is a possibility. Any reason why he would do that?”

“I don’t know… My necklace… you know, I thought I had lost it. But then there it was. I have no idea how or why he has it now. Maybe…”

“Good, good! This sounds like it could actually lead us somewhere! Keep thinking! When did you last see your necklace apart from in the video?”

He really had to strain his brain in order to remember. When had he first noticed that it was missing? It had definitely been a morning… but which morning? It seemed to have been so long ago… had it been the morning after his shopping trip for Kelly? Yes… yes, that seemed about right. He remembered fumbling with it on the way to the supermarket. Why exactly he wasn’t sure. But yes, that seemed to have been the last time he’d consciously touched it.

“It was… I was grocery shopping, I think. Nothing unusual, just had to get a few things for dinner and the kids. I remember I had to get a package of pasta before I could go home, but I got into conversation with…”He stopped abruptly as the pieces snapped into place. _Oh. Oh. Oh fuck!_ “It was her! She hugged me and told me how sorry she was about everything! God, why didn’t I see? Shit, it was her all along! She stole my necklace! It has to be her!”

“Who? Who are you talking about? Dominic!”

“Suzanne! She is a waitress at this café! The one from the cup! Oh shit, _she’s_ got him! That’s why he wanted to draw attention to it! And the missed notes… he just wanted us to know that something was up!”

By the time their conversation reached its peak excitement-wise, they had already stopped in front of the cells and Whitman gave him an apologetic look.

“Listen, I will follow up on that lead, ask around a bit and investigate her. Maybe she really is a suspect. But for the meantime… I am sorry, but you have to stay here.” The CI indicated one cell with a vague gesture.

Dom’s heart sank at the mere thought of being imprisoned while there was an actual new lead. But he didn’t want to make it difficult for the helpful policeman and so he just nodded. Whitman would find Matt and thereby also prove his innocence. Yes, he knew the CI could do that. And he would. The blonde watched Whitman while he unlocked the heavy iron door reluctantly and with a deep sigh.

“I promise, I’ll hurry. But I cannot tell you how long it will take me to come up with some solid proof. I guess, the only thing I can really do is advise you again not to talk to Thompson and… be patient.”

Again, Dom nodded. Then he looked over at the cell. It looked exactly like he had expected. Cold, dreary and empty. Great. Before he walked in, however, he turned to Whitman again. “Is Chris at the station right now? Is he okay? Will you tell him what we talked about? He needs to know.”

Now it was the CI’s turn to nod. “Yes, he’s up there, asking for you. He cannot visit you right now, but I will tell him, I promise. We will prove your innocence _and_ find Mr Bellamy.”

Dom knew that he really meant it, it was obvious in his face as well as in his voice. Whitman was a good man.

For now, that had to be enough.

_____

****

_London – 25.08.2013_

Dom stared at the clock that was hung over the door out of the custody area. It told him he’d been in this tiny cell for a whole night and half a day. It was nearly 3 pm, but it felt like it had been a lot longer.

Did Matt have a clock to read the time from? Or was he clueless as to how long he’d been gone from their lives? Did he know they should have played a gig in South Korea a week ago? Dom had tried to ignore the clock before, but it had been an impossible task. He couldn’t not know how much time had passed, no matter how slow it went. He felt a twinge in his chest at the thought of Matt having no sense of time, of losing a part of himself, in a way. The more he thought about it, the more he remembered small details from the pictures and the video. Suzanne had taken everything from him. He couldn’t know the time or day, couldn’t even decide on his own clothes, and, Dom was sure of that, he was dependent on her to bring him food and water.

Did she punish him for breaking the rules? She probably did, denying him food until he’d do as she pleased. Was that why she had set Dom up? To punish him? It was a possible explanation. Knowing that she’d given Matt the blonde’s necklace showed him that she’d used his friends as leverage. And Dom knew Matt would do anything to keep them out of harm’s way, just like Chris and he himself would.

Another look at the clock told him that it had only been 2 minutes since he’d last checked. He sighed. What was Whitman taking so long? The CI had _promised_ to update him constantly. So far, he hadn’t shown his face. There could be 2 possibilities for that, either Whitman hadn’t found anything incriminating yet, or he finally believed Thompson’s accusations and had abandoned Dom. The drummer didn’t know which would be worse, so he hoped he was completely wrong and Whitman was just taking the time because he’d found Matt and had to bring him here.

In the end, Whitman showed up half an hour later, out of breath, but clearly excited about something. His hair was sticking out into all directions like he had torn it over something. But his eyes were shining and a half smile curled the corners of his mouth. Dom jumped from his narrow bed so as to be on eye level with the CI.

“What is it?” the drummer asked, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

“We found something. A lot actually. There is… I mean, all the evidence points at this Suzanne woman. But the problem is that it’s not enough to get you out. Yet. I interviewed some of your neighbours and there actually was one woman who had a recording.”

“Recording? What recording?”

“Well, she took a video of her children on the front yard, a few houses away from your front door. At first she didn’t think that it was too important, but when she realised that I was there to find out about some mystery woman, she immediately came forward. She caught Suzanne on tape! Lurking around your house! I confiscated the tape and it’s definitely her. It looks a lot like she was checking out the area, but she didn’t enter your house. But it’s at least something to go on.”

“I knew it!” Dom almost laughed in relief.

“But there is more. She obviously uploaded the video from your house to frame you. But she has also been seen around various internet cafés, as well. Why we cannot be really sure, yet. My best guess is that she is trying to cover her tracks.” Whitman leaned back against the wall on the opposite side of the corridor and crossed his arms over his chest.

“And… and that’s not enough to get me out?” The blonde gave him an incredulous look as he stood as close to the bars as physically possible. _How could that not be enough?_

“No… You see, the thing is that Thompson is dead set on putting you away because he wants to close the case. He is a capable police man, but I think he has gotten a bit of tunnel vision and thinks there’s enough evidence against you. And all of what I’ve found… well, he could turn it against you, make it look like _you_ framed _her_.” The CI sighed deeply and closed his eyes for a second before he looked at the drummer again. “He could probably turn it against you and accuse you of having forced her into helping you with the abduction and everything.”

Dom gaped at that. How? Whitman had all this evidence against Suzanne and still Thompson would blame everything on him?  

“I’m sorry, Dominic. You have to be patient… trust me, I promise to find out more. I’m going to find Suzanne and try to find out more.”

“Are you fucking crazy?” Dom exclaimed. “If you go to her now it’s all over!”

He had lunged forward when Whitman had come up with this idea and was now gripping the bars in front of his face tightly. If they weren’t there he probably would have strangled the man. Whitman couldn’t be serious, could he? The police standing at her door would just give it all away.

The CI sighed. “Dominic, I know it’s risky. But what other choice do we have? I’m gonna go alone and interview her as a witness. You did frequent that café a lot, after all.”

“But…” Suzanne would be able to put 2 and 2 together. He was sure of that.

“It’s our only chance to find out more without Thompson getting in our way. Please… Just trust me.”

With that, the CI turned and left, the sound of the door clicking shut too loud in the deadly silent room.

Dom was still gripping the bars tightly to the point of breaking the soft skin of his palm. If they talked to Suzanne it was all over. Once she found out that they were onto her there was no point in keeping Matt with her. Or alive, for that matter.

He quietly swore under his breath and prepared to let go of the bars. He felt like he’d break down here and now once he didn’t hold onto them anymore. Slowly, he lessened the grip until he completely let go of them, and stumbled backwards to the bed. There, he sat for an undefinable amount of time and just stared at the door Whitman had just left through.

He had to get out of here. The drummer just couldn’t wait until they interrogated this woman and found Matt’s dead body. He needed to find a way out of this cell and do it on his own; find Matt and bring him home. But how? This _was_ a cell, after all. In a police station. Full of policemen. And cameras. It seemed like an impossible task.

 _But Matt’s in danger_ , he reminded himself. That fact changed everything for him. Maybe it was impossible to get out of here, but for Matt he’d always try the impossible. And if it meant to break out of a cell in a police station full of policemen and cameras, then so be it.

He needed a plan first, though. He couldn’t just kick down the cell door, that much was clear. He might as well just shout “arrest my sorry arse and lock me away until the end of time”. Not to mention that he wasn’t even strong enough to do that physically. Oh well. There had to be another way out, but how?

A guard passed his cell and checked on him. Dom pointedly ignored the man until a crazy idea struck him. The same guy had been checking on him the past couple of hours. Every hour on the dot, if he could believe the clock that hung above the door to the outside of the custody area. He hadn’t seen anyone else around, so there was a good chance that this policeman was the only one on duty. Which made sense considering he was the only person down here, they didn’t need a whole team to keep him locked up. _No Hulk, after all_. That could be very helpful for his plan to break out. He just needed to get the guard inside the cell and overpower him.

He watched the guard retreat and leave him alone again. Dom noted that he didn’t hold any visible weapons. Good. He just hoped that there was nothing hidden under the uniform either. _No chance to check until you try, Dom_. He scrunched up his face, looking up to the camera and trying to figure out if it was on. He couldn’t see a light indicating it was indeed working, but that didn’t mean it was turned off. Again he had no other choice than to hope that if it was on, the guard was indeed alone.

So many possibilities, so many risks. He closed his eyes. There was no guarantee for him, but if he didn’t try, there _was_ the guarantee of never seeing Matt again.

___

Little under an hour later and Dom was buzzing with nerves. If this went tits up he would not only have to call the prison is new home, but he’d also lose Whitman’s trust, no matter if the CI believed him innocent. But all the voices in his head screaming at him how wrong and dangerous this was were silenced by the quiet voice of Matt saying his name. No going back.

Dom could hear the door open, so he quickly crumpled down next to the bed and curled in on himself. He whimpered, trying to sound as painful as he could and coughed for good measure. He figured his nerves did the rest of his act, as he could only guess that he had to be as white as a sheet. He felt cold sweat on his skin and his stomach wouldn’t stop doing summersaults. Dom wouldn’t have been surprised if he threw up right in this moment.

When the guard finally entered the space in front of his cell the blonde whimpered a quiet “help, please” and moaned pathetically. He turned his body around and fisted the sheet on top of the bed, and held his breath when he heard the key sliding into the lock of his cell. The guard approached him carefully and asked if he was alright.

Dom turned his face away from the guard. He wasn’t close enough yet. Dom wasn’t a good actor, and if the guard realised he was only faking it would all be over. He needed to get closer. _Just a bit. Please._

It seemed like his lucky stars were with him today, because the guard crouched down next to him to check on his pulse. Dom turned and grabbed the guard’s shoulder. The momentum gave him so much strength that the guard wasn’t only pushed against the wall, but his head also hit it with so much force, that Dom could hear a loud crack before the policeman dropped to the floor, out cold.

The cell was quiet. Dom couldn’t hear any sounds outside, either. He waited another minute or two, but nothing happened. So he must have been right about the guard being alone. Thank God. He turned his gaze to the man lying lifelessly on his cell’s floor.

“I’m so sorry,” the blonde whispered and started to shake.

Shit, he hoped the man was alright. He just wanted to get out, not kill anyone. Carefully he walked over, mindful not to let his guard down in case the guard wasn’t unconscious (though the chance was truly low). He could feel a weak pulse when he touched the man’s wrist and felt a bit more relieved. He was torn between fleeing and shouting for help. But he could never explain the situation, and, even though he felt bad about what he’d just done, he just couldn’t abandon his plan now. This was his chance.

Carefully, he heaved the guard up and pulled him over to the bed. There, he removed his uniform and undressed himself to put it on. The clothes were a bit too big for his slim frame, especially since he’d lost some weight since Matt was gone, but he just pulled the belt tighter and hoped it would be enough. At last, he removed the cap from the unconscious man.

With the keys in his hands, he walked out of the cell and locked it, before he made his way to the door outside.

Dom took a deep breath and pulled the cap lower so his face was somewhat hidden. Quite frankly, he hadn’t thought he’d come this far, so his plan on what to do needed a lot of improvement. There was no time to do a proper plan now, sneaking through the station seemed to be the most logical. He hoped he could remember the way, getting lost would be a definite way back to his cell. He passed the guard’s office and got confirmation that he had been alone all the time. Dom could see his cell being broadcasted on the monitors, the guard still lying unconscious on his bed. He shook his head and proceeded to leave the custody area.

The fake policeman tried to calm his nerves and appear as casual as possible. He needed to look like he belonged so no one would get suspicious of him. He slowly climbed up the stairs and, after opening the door, found himself in a huge corridor, which luckily seemed to be deserted. Dom picked up the pace, the sooner he was out here, the better, and if no one was around he should use the just to _hurry the fuck up_.

His heart was beating rapidly in his chest as he approached a pair of policemen. They were talking to each other, so Dom quickly slipped by them, keeping his eyes trained straight forward. He was just about to heave a sigh of relief when one of them called him, “Hey!”.

The blonde froze on the spot, debating what to do. Would running be an option? No, probably not. He might be able to escape these 2, but others would notice him and he’d be back in the cell. What about fighting? No, definitely not. He wasn’t strong enough to take on both, and even if he managed it by sheer luck, the commotion would alert other policemen. Fuck! He should have thought this through a lot more. He should have thought of something like this happening. How fucking naive had he been?!

“Got a lighter by any chance?” the policeman asked him.

 _Oh, thank God_. He could do that. _Stay calm._

“Sorry, mate,” he replied and surprised himself with how detached he sounded. He pointedly kept facing away from them, in case they would recognise his face. “Just stopped smoking”

“Aw, man, thanks anyway.”

Dom nodded and took that as his chance to leave. He quickly kept walking and navigated through what seemed like a labyrinth. At a junction, he came to a stop. He remembered he had to pass Whitman’s office to get outside. Shit. He could fool those policemen who had never seen his face, but Whitman? One look at Dom and the CI would recognise him. Would he bust Dom’s disguise? Or would he let him pass without another glance? He couldn’t be too sure. Yes, Whitman was on his side, but that didn’t guarantee him the man would ignore his duty.

His nerves only intensified with that knowledge. He was on his own with his, no Chris or Whitman to save him this time. He had to take responsibility for his actions if it went to hell. He shook his head.

No, this wouldn’t fail. _He_ wouldn’t fail. He’d come this far, he just had to pray his luck wouldn’t run out. Straightening up, Dom kept walking.

___

And it had indeed been a run of sheer good luck. Dom couldn’t quite believe that he had actually made it to Whitman’s office without having been caught. It was hard to look inconspicuous when you felt anything but, after all. And his nervousness was almost overwhelming. The door stood open and from his position on the other side of the corridor it looked empty. Could he really be this lucky? Whitman was probably out, working on his case, looking for Suzanne. Maybe he could… yeah, he even should. He needed to.

With a deep breath he summoned all what was left of his courage and took a step towards the office. There was indeed no one around, so he slipped inside and closed the door behind him. That was the moment he let his breath out again. Then he started to look around frantically. Even if he’d been lucky so far, there was no guarantee that it would stay that way. He needed to hurry. Suzanne. He needed to find out what Whitman knew. He needed to know as much as possible in order to put his plan into action. _He needed to find Matt._

There were papers and photographs strewn all over the impressive desk and without having touched any of them, Dom was already on the verge of a nervous breakdown. How in the fucking hell was he supposed to find anything helpful in this mess? The CI could’ve at least tried to get some order into his research. The whole thing looked like a bureaucrat’s living nightmare. With shaking hands he pulled out a random sheet of paper and scanned the bullet points. Nothing interesting, at least not to the blonde. Then, in a sudden outburst of panic, he pulled out sheet after sheet, photo after photo. They were all connected to Matt’s abduction and Dom already knew most of what was written there.

“Address, address, I need an address!” he mumbled to himself when he finally came across a shiny, new plastic folder. It was still pretty slim, but it was signed “Suzanne MacConnel. Real name: Rachel Harrison”. Oh. So Suzanne had not even been her real name. Just an alias. Rachel… Rachel Harrison was the name of the woman who had taken Matt. His best friend and possibly… no, he couldn’t go there now. Not when he had to keep his head as cool as humanly possible.

“Focus, Dom,” he whispered as he flicked through the folder and finally found what he’d been looking for all along. An address. “Yes!” he said a bit too loudly and instantly clamped his hand over his mouth so as not to allow any more words to leave it. Getting caught now was even less of an option than it had been a few minutes ago. He was so close now!

Quickly he grabbed for a pen and a stray piece of paper and copied the address from the folder. It was not too far away, one of the fancier, more secluded neighbourhoods in London. But Dom knew it and maybe he could get there before Suzanne or Rachel or whoever that fucking psycho bitch really was got to know that the police was on her heels now. Dom was seriously scared of what might happen to Matt if she found out _before_ he could get there.

The blonde folded the tiny piece of paper and put it into his backpocket. Then he looked around again. He’d been in this office so many times over the past few weeks, always with a mixture of hope and despair boiling in his chest. But never had he thought that he’d have to sneak into it like he just had. Never had he expected to end up in a cell as the prime suspect. Never had he… But that was his situation right now. He had to do this on his own. He had to find Matt and finally bring him back. It was obviously a very dangerous undertaking, but what had he lose? Yes, he had started to resign himself to the thought of maybe never seeing Matt again in the past. But… But no. Not if there was even the slightest chance, the tiniest possibility of saving him. What would the others think when they found out about his prison break? What would Whitman do? He had knocked out an officer on duty, after all. Hopefully the guy was okay…

“Focus,” he repeated to himself and shook his head so as to get rid of all unnecessary thoughts. Getting out of the station and finding Suzanne’s house was all that counted right now. It was his first and foremost goal for the next hour or so. Then… then there was the problem of actually breaking into the house, finding Matt, and getting him out again without anyone getting hurt. Well… he didn’t care much about Suzanne getting hurt, maybe he would even welcome that. Because if anyone deserved it, then it was definitely and without doubt her.

The drummer pulled himself out of his reverie of bringing the one who had brought all this misery onto them to justice and instead put the scrap paper into his backpocket. There were other things he had to think about now. First he had to get out unnoticed. Then he had to find a way to get to Suzanne’s house. Did he want to call Chris? To put him at ease? If ease was even the right word for it… What would he do when he arrived there? If he arrived there. His head was full of those questions when he heard some people talking outside the office and his whole body instantly went into red alert. He held his breath as they walked past the door and only let it go when he couldn’t hear them anymore.

 _Close call_ , he thought and dared to take a step towards the door. _Out, out, out_ , was all he could think about and it made him consider how Matt might have been thinking the same. Probably many times before. The thought about his friend’s desperation alone sparked another bout of determination in his chest and gave him the final boost of courage he needed to take the last steps towards the door. His situation was clearly one of _now or never_ because time was a luxury he didn’t have. So he peeked through the gap between door and frame and, when he felt like no one would see him, he snuck out and quickly hurried through the corridor into the direction he had walked so many times before, never happy but always free to do so.

It didn’t take him long to reach the foyer, but he knew that it might become the hardest part of his escape as there were always more than a few people around there, especially this time of the day. Of course he had to be right. There were policemen and civilians all over the place. The former preparing for their lunch breaks or coming back in from some operation or simply a smoke. The latter complaining about noisy neighbours, parking tickets and the general (bad) state of things. But contrary to his expectations this quickly became his greatest advantage. Everybody was busy and no one paid him any attention as he walked past to make his escape. Yes, he was probably on some CCTV recordings already, but who cared? As long as he had enough time to get to Suzanne’s place before the police found him, nothing else really mattered.

It had been so long since he had last seen Matt that he didn’t even know what to expect in case he could really get to him. What would he be like? Exhausted? Hopeless? Angry? … Broken? No… No, those thoughts weren’t helpful at all. No, he needed to find and save him. That was all that counted. Everything else could be dealt with afterwards. There was nothing they couldn’t get through as long as they were together. Together they’d already come through so much before.

With that thought in mind he made his way out of the station, trying not to break into a run. He walked and walked and walked until the imposing building was far behind him, nothing but a memory at best. His mind was focused on the task at hand. There was nothing more important right now. His hands were buried in the pockets of the uniform he had stolen from the man who had hopefully been found by now. The streets were filled with people, some obviously Londoners on their way to and from work, some tourists. If you had spent as much in the metropolis as Dom had, telling inhabitants from visitors became second nature. And as some of the more openly touristy people eyed him as if they were thinking about approaching him, he figured that the uniform wasn’t really an advantage anymore, not outside the station.

So there were two things on his to-do list before he could put his actual (half) plan into action. Get rid of the uniform and call Chris. Because yes, he needed to inform his friend. The bassist deserved to know what was going on. But first the uniform. It was really attracting too much attention and attention was the very last thing he needed right now. It wasn’t the easiest task, though. The streets were filled with people and as far as he could see there was no place he could get rid of his current set of clothing without raising suspicions. His brain was working at top speed and when he passed yet another coffeehouse, he acted on impulse. Maybe all those people could actually help. So he went in and squeezed through the mass in front of the busy counter. It took him less than two minutes to get to toilets. Without looking at anyone directly, he just went in and closed the door of the stall behind him.

This was the first moment since his bold escape that he took a moment to really breathe again. His heart had not stopped pumping viciously and a thin sheen of sweat covered his forehead. But there was no time to dwell on… on anything right now. So he took of the heavy jacket and worked his legs out of the black trousers. Underneath he had still been wearing his jeans and tee, so he wouldn’t have to run around naked, at least. That would’ve brought him more attention than he could’ve borne.

Shaking his head so as to get rid of that ridiculous thought, he took the scrap paper out of the trousers. He also retrieved the wallet from one of the pockets and looked through it. There wasn’t much money in it, but the couple of coins would be enough. He didn’t plan on taking a holiday, after all. The drummer didn’t feel like extracting anything else, though. This was someone else’s belonging, it was bad enough that he’d knocked the poor guy out, he didn’t want to become a thief, as well.

He pushed the wallet back into the pocket and folded the uniform. Then he opened the lavatory cistern and stuffed the bundle into it. He closed it again and stuffed the paper into his own back pocket. Only then did he start to listen to his surroundings again. There was a busy to and fro going on outside, so he waited another minute to make sure no one who’d seen him going in would be there to see him re-emerge in a different set of clothing.

He took a deep breath and another ridiculous thought shot through his head as he opened the stall again. The police had probably already found out about his escape and were looking for him. He had knocked out an officer on duty, escaped from custody and just changed his appearance. Yes, he truly felt like the main character of some awesome thriller movie. Matt would have probably been proud. If it had been a movie. Which it wasn’t. The situation was dangerous and he could get himself into real trouble. He didn’t really care, though, not if it meant that he had a chance at saving Matt.

Straightening his back and trying to look inconspicuous, he walked back through the cluster of people and made his way out of the front door. Not wasting any time, he started looking for a phone box. Dom obviously didn’t have his mobile with him, so he craned his neck to get a good look up and down the street. There was no phone box in sight, but there had to be one somewhere close to his location because London’s streets were literally covered with them.

Grim determination dominated his every action then and he hurried up the street, a direction less people seemed to be interested in as it led away from the city centre. Good, that was good. No one paid him any attention anymore and he kept his head down because he had never wanted not to get recognised more than now.

When he turned a corner he was suddenly struck by unexpected luck. There was a bus stop as well as a row of phone boxes just a few feet away and only one of them was occupied. Without thinking he broke into a run and only halted when he had almost bumped into the timetable. It took him a moment to find a bus that would at least take him to Suzanne’s neighbourhood. Then he spun around and shoved a few pounds into the ticket machine. Every move he made was fuelled by haste and the need to get to Matt as quickly as possible. The few seconds he had to wait for the machine to print his ticket felt like a lifetime already, and when he finally had the stupid little thing between his fingers, he put it into his pocket alongside the address. Then he turned around and hurried over to the phone boxes. The drummer ripped the door open and jumped into the booth like his life depended on in. Which it kind of did. He shoved his left hand into his trouser pocket and fished the remaining coins out of it just to push them into the phone. His fingers flew across the keys as he typed out Chris’ number faster than he could think. Then he pressed the receiver to his ear and waited for the familiar click to announce that someone had picked up. It was not more than ten seconds until it did.

“Dom? Dom, is that you?”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

He could hear a relieved sigh on the other end of the line.

“Fuck, Dom!” the bassist exclaimed. “Whitman said they were keeping you in custody and I wouldn’t be able to talk to you. He said that this other detective thinks you’re responsible for Matt’s predicament.”

“Yeah,” the blonde confirmed and nodded his head before he remembered that Chris wouldn’t be able to see the motion. “Thompson is dead set on getting me to jail. I won’t let him.”

“I never believed that anyway. Neither does Whitman, you know. He says he’s trying to get you out.”

“He is, but there’s no time for that. Chris, it’s someone we know. It’s that girl from Smith’s. Suzanne. Look, I don’t have time to explain, I need to get going.”

“Wait, what?” There was clear confusion in Chris’ voice. “How do you know that? Does Whitman know? And what do you mean, you need to get going?”

Okay, Dom could just hang up now, say his time was limited and the police wouldn’t give him an extension. But he didn’t feel like lying to Chris. He needed him to know, and even if Chris would lecture him, he needed to be honest with him.

“Look, I… I did something stupid. But it’s gonna be alright, okay?”

“Dom. Dom, what did you do?”

“I might have escaped from custody?” He shrugged and looked around the small booth. He kind of felt like a kid again, having stolen from the cookie jar. “Don’t say anything. I know it was stupid, but Whitman was gonna go to Suzanne and I couldn’t afford that. I’m gonna find Matt.”

There was silence on the other end and Dom could picture Chris in his mind. The bassist was probably trying to line up all information in his head and then figure out what to do. But Dom didn’t have time for that now.

He was just about to tell Chris a quick goodbye when there was rustling coming through the speaker and Chris finally spoke up again. “Where the fuck are you? I’m coming with you.”

Dom was a bit surprised that there wasn’t any lecture coming, because yes, he knew what he was doing was reckless and beyond stupid. But it seemed like Chris understood his motives perfectly. Or maybe the lecture was going to come later, when they had more time. It wouldn’t matter, though, because by then Matt would be back with them and that weighed a lot more than a possible lecture from the bassist.

“Chris, listen. I need you to stay at home and have my back. I never called you and you haven’t heard from me since I left your place, okay?”

“What-”

“No, listen,” Dom repeated. “We’re running out of time and I can’t pull you into this mess. I just needed you to know and make sure that you’re with me.”

“Of course, Dom,” a desperate sigh came from the speaker, “of course I’m with you. I’ll always be, mate.”

“Good. Then do as I told you. Please.”

Chris’ voice was barely a whisper. “Okay… Okay, Dom. I… Please be careful.”

Dom looked outside and saw the bus pulling up. He needed to cut his goodbye short.

“I’m gonna go now, Matt’s waiting,” and because he felt like he needed to say it, he added “I really love you, Chris. You’re one of my best mates and I… Yeah, I’ll see you later.”

He hung up before he could hear Chris’ answer. He didn’t want to hear it. Dom knew he was being quite dramatic now, but the whole situation had come crashing down in a matter of seconds. This was it. Either he’d find Matt and come home with him or go to prison, or he was going to die trying. No matter what happened now, everything was said and done. There was only one thing left on the agenda: Matt.

The drummer stumbled out of the phone booth and took quick steps towards the already waiting bus. Just in time he jumped through the already closing doors and flashed his ticket. Then he walked up the stairs to the upper deck of the bus and sat down at the back. He wouldn’t be able to relax, but he leaned back nevertheless and watched houses pass by. It was only a matter of time now until he reached his destination.

“Just hang on, Matt. I’m coming. Don’t worry,” he whispered to himself.

 


	11. Chapter 11

The bus was badly ventilated and in combination with the nervous energy that currently dominated every fibre of Dom’s body, that made for a dangerously sticky mix. By that point the blonde did nothing but look around frantically and fumble around with the leg of his jeans while the city flew by the windows in a blur. The bus passed station after station and Dom felt like he would never arrive at his destination. Stuck on an endless bus ride while Matt was rotting in some secluded room.

Dom had tried to follow the winding roads the vehicle was taking, just so his mind was occupied for the time being. But soon enough his thoughts had travelled back to what he was about to do. There was no immediate plan he could follow. No idea of how he wanted to get into Suzanne’s house and let alone get Matt out of it unharmed. He guessed that he would just have to improvise as soon as he knew the premises. The problem was, though, that he wasn’t a burglar or a spy or an athlete. He had no special abilities that would help him with his objective.

Dom only had the determination that drove him to this desperate action. And the need to finally bring Matt back to safety. Hopefully that would be enough to arise successfully from this undertaking. He would either save Matt or die trying.

The drummer looked up with a start. Had he really just thought that? Well, he had indeed and he wasn’t too sure why he was so surprised by it. Of course he would risk it all for his best friend and… well, whatever he was for him. Deep down he had always known that he would do anything for Matt, but he had never spelled it out so clearly, not even to himself. Somehow it had always been one of the unspoken principles he lived by.

Just when he was about to close his eyes and try to collect his thoughts, the bus came to a sudden halt and he rocked forward in his seat, not having expected the abrupt motion. He clamped his hands to the metal bar in front of him to steady himself and was suddenly reminded of the uncomfortable feeling of being stuck in a prison cell. By now it almost seemed unreal that less than a few hours ago he actually had been behind closed bars. This day had already been far too long for his liking and for all he knew it might stretch out in front of him for eternity.

When had his life become such a twisted mess? Ah, right… when he had refused to believe Matt’s paranoia. But no. No, not those thoughts again. They would only weaken him in his resolve and that was the very last thing he needed. He needed to be strong and determined and resourceful.

One look at the display told him that this was actually his stop. Wow, he’d been buried in his thoughts so deeply that he’d almost missed the most crucial stop in his life. And didn’t that sound dramatic?

Not hesitating for another moment, the blonde got up from his seat, ran down the short way to the stairs, jumped them down, taking two or three at once, and managed to squeeze through the doors just in time. Some of the other passengers shot him annoyed looks because apparently he had delayed the departure for a few seconds. Well, in a city like London it was all about saving time, even if it was only the smallest amount. Not caring about that for the slightest bit, though, Dom immediately started scanning his surroundings. It was one of the most expensive neighbourhoods around but still he wasn’t in the most private one. Obviously people with that kind of money didn’t want to live too close to anything like a bus stop. So Dom would have to walk some more in order to get to the heart of this exclusive borough.

With the address neatly tucked away in his back pocket and his heart and mind full of a contradictory mix of fear, anticipation, hope, and… well, more fear, the blonde made his way down the street. He really hoped Suzanne wouldn’t see him coming. That would put a very quick end to this undertaking. The thing with trying to be inconspicuous was, though, that the harder you tried, the more obvious you got. So Dom tried to find a balance between seeming like a sneaky perpetrator and looking around like some overly enthusiastic tourist. Fortunately there weren’t too many people around and most of them were rolling down the streets in their expensive cars, anyway. It was weird how, on the one hand, Dom could be part of a neighbourhood like this because, well, he definitely had the financial means. But on the other hand, he had never felt as isolated in such surroundings as he did now. And who were those people, anyway? People who didn’t even notice that an actual person was being held captive just next door.

 _No, Dominic, no! It’s not the time to blame strangers. Not helpful!_ he scolded himself. _Focus!_

Pulling himself together, the drummer continued down the pavement and snuck the odd look at the houses he passed by in order not to miss his destination. In the end it took him about half an hour to find his way from the bus stop and through the streets lined with imposing, dark-green hedges that blocked most of the view of the actual houses behind them. But, to his luck, most of the house numbers were at least visible from the street and so he had no real problems with finding Suzanne’s place.

The mansion (because it was one hell of a big-ass house!) was sitting neatly between the other estates, although separated from them by hedges and big gardens on both sides. The white-washed facades were shining in the late afternoon light and Dom felt weirdly exposed. Right now he would’ve prefered the security of darkness. But well, he’d just have to make do with the circumstances. The path that led to the front door was plastered with artfully asymmetrical granite stones and flanked by lawn and some bushes. Everything looked well-tended but at the same time very natural. Some people just a had a hand for stuff like this. Dom didn’t and, quite frankly, he didn’t care for it one bit.

The question was, how was he going to get inside now? Knocking was definitely out of the question. _Oh hello, I just wanted to get into your house so I can take my best friend out of your disgusting, slimy claws_. Yeah, that wasn’t the best idea. He looked up the front of the building. There were so many windows, but he would never be able to reach them. Even though there was a tree close to one he doubted he could climb it, and even if he managed to do it without hurting himself he didn’t think he would be able to climb the branch without falling. No, there had to be another way in. Just in case, though, he filed that possibility away for later. Maybe he could find an alternative in once he’d scouted the whole area.

Carefully he moved towards the building. The closer he came, the more he could feel adrenaline being pumped through his veins. He felt like an agent or something similar when he tried to hide between bushes and whatever else he could move behind. For a short moment he tried to imagine what he’d look like in a black suit with black sunglasses and black leather gloves, but he discarded the image quickly. He really must have been on Matt-withdrawal if he came up with weird, random moments like this.

Once he reached the wall he pressed himself against it, heart hammering in his chest. He peeked through the window next to him, but couldn’t see anyone, so he crouched down and crawled under it to reach the other side. There, he checked his surroundings again. It was still eerily quiet.

He took a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves.

This had been a bad idea. Maybe he should have called Whitman, after all. Told him what he’d done and that he’d go back to the station with him once Matt was safe. The CI would have understood, right? But what if he hadn’t? Whitman had supported the drummer so far, but it didn’t mean that his sympathy and cooperation was endless. No, Dom had done the right thing by going on his own. But right now, he felt so helpless. He hadn’t realised until now how much he’d come to rely on others to get through this. Maybe not only this, maybe he’d always needed his friends’ support to get through everything. He should be more independent, no?

The blonde shook his head. He really needed to stop having these thoughts out of nowhere. Of course he needed his friends’ support, it was only human. He needed to give himself more credit. While it was true that in the beginning of this nightmare he had been helpless and needed Chris to get him back on his feet, he’d done the rest alone. And, truly, he could be proud of that. If he weren’t such a strong person and believed in Matt and everyone else he wouldn’t be here now.

That brought him back to reality. He was here. Here being the house of the woman that potentially held Matt captive. Matt could be inside. Waiting to get out. Waiting for him. His existential crisis would have to wait until later.

The drummer followed the front of the house and turned the corner to find a huge hedge blocking his way. It was too tall to see what was directly behind it, but when Dom looked up he could see that the majority of the house’s front was made out of windows. Truly, if the circumstances had been different and he were merely visiting a random house it would have taken his breath away, it did look beautiful.

He approached the hedge and got ready to climb over it when he pulled his hand away abruptly, pain shooting through the palm of his left hand. When he put it up in front of his face he saw blood seeping down the digit. _Ah, thorns_ , he concluded and discarded his plan of climbing over the bushes. Instead, he followed the line of briar until the end. There was indeed an opening in the hedge, but when he looked inside he could only see more bushes and, if he looked closely, the the cold wall under huge windows. No door in sight, but he couldn’t see everything of course. But what were the odds? He contemplated the situation quickly.

 _Think, Dominic_. He’d followed his heart and had done well so far, so what did his heart tell him now? He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. Maybe he could sneak into this maze and navigate to the end. He might find a door, or he might find more walls and waste a good 10 minutes. He could also go around the house some more and try to find an opportunity to get inside and waste another 10 minutes. Or he could go back, man up and climb the damn tree. But what if he couldn’t open the window? He didn’t think it had been open. But at least it would be progress in some way.

He opened his eyes and nodded to himself.

“Tree. I can do it,” he whispered and set off back to the street.

The tree didn’t look too sturdy in Dom’s opinion. But that didn’t mean anything. He was scared of climbing it, so of course Dom didn’t trust a piece of wood. He was afraid of hurting himself, he always had been. The blonde remembered when he’d broken his arm as a teenager. It had been humiliating enough that it had happened when he’d tried to throw a damn ball (because really, how did that happen?!), but he’d gone away with a trauma. He hadn’t done any real sports since then and he tried to evade potentially dangerous situations at any cost. As much as you could avoid that with a certain Matt Bellamy around, that is. Now, however, he had no choice. Either he’d climb that damn tree or waste a chance to find the one person he cared about the most. That was an easy decision, really.

Dom looked left and right to check if he was still alone. He didn’t know what he’d expected, as he reminded himself that this area was secluded and the only person who might see him was probably Suzanne. And that was a risk he was willing to take. Fear was the last thing he wanted to let get into the way of things. _Between him and Matt_. With a deep breath he put his hands to one of the lower branches and closed his eyes for a second. _You can do this_ , he thought to himself. _No, you have to! There is no other option. Man up, Howard!_

Then, with a labored groan, he pulled himself up and supported his weight with his feet against the thick trunk. All the years of extensive drumming really came in useful to him now. It wasn’t as hard as he had expected it to be and without too much effort (well, enough effort, really), he had soon reached the middle of the deciduous tree. From here he could look into one or two rooms but there was still no one around. Also, and this annoyed Dom more than anything at that moment, both windows in reach were firmly closed. Sighing deeply he looked up to the next floor. There was an open window. There _actually_ was an open window! But shit, he would have to climb a good six feet higher in order to reach it. Well, he didn’t really have a choice, did he?

A few strained movements and some balance problems later he was only a few inches away from the window-sill. With his legs wrapped around the branch he was sitting on, he reached for it and edged forward as far as his weight and the unstable wood beneath him allowed. While slightly swaying from side to side, he decided to risk it and lunged towards the window in a desperate attempt. And thank God, it worked. His hands were clamping the sill and his feet balanced the rest of his body on the branch. A few quick and considered motions finally catapulted him through the window and into the room.

The roughness of the thrust made for an uncomfortable encounter between his face and the carpeted floor. He stayed there for several moments, face down, just listening to his surroundings. Had someone heard his less than graceful entrance? But there was no movement to be heard, or even the slightest sign that anyone was inside the house, so the blonde got up gingerly and staggered to the door that would hopefully get him closer to his goal.

He was on the second floor above ground, that much he knew. There was no third storey to the building. But where was he supposed to start searching? There’d been no windows in the pictures and the video recordings. So down was probably the right direction to go, he guessed, as the rest of the house pretty much appeared to be covered with windows..

There was a rather dark corridor outside the door, lined with more doors. This house was even huger than it looked from the street. But fortunately there was a bright light coming from one end and Dom could see the shadow of a banister cast on the wall. There had to be a staircase just around the corner. Down. Yes, down.

Still there was no sign of Suzanne. No sign of life in the whole house, actually. What if he was wrong? What if Matt wasn’t here? What if everything, all his efforts had been in vain? No, this was exactly the wrong moment to start with this shit again. He hadn’t even seen the rest of the house yet. _Christ, I have no time for this_ , he scolded himself and proceeded down the stairs as quietly as he could possibly manage.

It didn’t take him long to reach the ground floor of this imposing building. How it could be inhabited by only one person was beyond him. The report he had found in Whitman’s office stated that Suzanne lived in a single household. Well, right now she had a roomy. An involuntary one at that.

The corridor down here was a lot brighter and more open than the upper two and the walls were lined with photographs and expensive looking art pieces. Much like the other corridors, though, this one was also riddled with doors on both sides, none of them indicating that there might be a trapped singer behind them. But he didn’t have any time to muse about that. If he had to open every single door, then so be it.

Proceeding to do exactly that, he hurried from door to door, finding a lot of different rooms of mostly undefinable purpose. At one point he actually needed to do a double take. The room behind the nondescript door offered an overwhelming view of the garden behind the house. Its far wall seemed to be made of nothing but glass and Dom felt like he was intruding on something too beautiful to fathom. But, and that was his one and only concern at the moment, there was still no sign of Matt. None at all. So he shut the door again and made his way further down the endless corridor.

This house was indeed the perfect setting for a nightmare, he thought. Innumerable doors, dark corners, no sign of life, but always the looming threat of getting caught by a psychotic murderer. Shaking his head and trying to focus again, he came across a door that seemed heavier than the previous ones. Instantly alerted, he pushed it open forcefully and was faced with a downward staircase. It was considerably darker and Dom felt dread rising in his chest. But there was also some sort of pull in him that drew on his every fibre and he just knew that this was were he needed to go; further down.

When he reached the floor, he found the new corridor in pale, weak light like the bulbs were trying their best to stay awake but just couldn’t. However, directly next to him there was yet another flight of steps. Even further down? What was this, the entrance to hell? Because yes, it literally felt like that to him. This house, much like its owner, contained a lot more than could be seen from the outside. And its contents scared him greatly. But the prospect of possibly finding Matt kept him in motion.

He moved on to the next staircase and followed it down to an even darker corridor and suddenly he found himself surrounded by impenetrable blackness. The drummer would have given anything at this moment to have a lighter or at least his mobile phone so he could have some form of light. But as he didn’t have either of these items he could only feel his way around.

There was only the wall to touch, no doors or frames that would change the feeling under his fingertips. He didn’t expect anything to be down here, this was clearly a dead end. And yet, his gut instinct told him to keep going.

After a few more steps he could actually see a weak light shining at the bottom close to the floor. His legs moved on their own accord until he stood right in front of a, he supposed, huge door. The light was coming from the room behind it and Dom’s heart leaped in his chest with new hope. This was the only room down here, it seemed, and it was lit from the inside. When he found a handle he gripped it hard and couldn’t stop the shudder that went through his body. There was no reason to keep such a room alight, unless...

His heart suddenly calmed and he felt dizzy. The blonde gripped the handle harder.

This was it. His body and mind knew it. His instincts told him that he’d found him. Finally.

Dom didn’t know how he could be so sure. This could be another disappointment, after all. Matt could be in another room, or not even in this house. But he’d never felt like this before, never had his body reacted the way it did. He knew he wouldn’t be able to cope if he was wrong.

The drummer took a deep breath and prepared himself, then pulled at the handle. The door creaked and groaned, but it slid open with relative ease.

He was met by broad light, so bright that it stung his eyes a bit. He shielded them when he walked inside until he got somewhat accustomed to the brightness so he could quickly scan his surroundings.

There was a huge mirror taking over most of the wall to the side. Dom was sure that this was a one-way mirror, there was no other explanation as to why a monster like that would have been down here in the basement. His eyes roamed further. A piano to the side, a small table in the middle of the room, a bed in the far corner. A guitar leaning against the nightstand. Dom frowned.

That looked suspiciously like one of Matt’s guitars. When did it get lost? He couldn’t remember missing it, but then again, he hadn’t checked their equipment since they left Helsinki the other day. But they should have detected something like that sooner, no? It only showed how unperceptive they were. They hadn’t seen Napolitano at the gigs or the hotel, Dom hadn’t realised his necklace had been missing for so long… How many items had Suzanne taken from right under their noses? How often had she or her… whatever Napolitano had been to her, been close to them without any of them realising it? Goosebumps rose on his flesh.

There was movement on the bed and Dom automatically trained his eyes on the lump. Dark hair peeked out from under the poor excuse of a blanket and Dom felt like exploding right on the spot.

He quickly ran over and knelt in front of the bed, his hand shaking when he extended it to touch the hand that had found its way out of the blanket, as well. The body seemed to feel his presence as blue eyes opened wearily. Dom smiled at him when his face turned into a frown, clearly not being able to process what was happening. The blonde’s hand moved to a slightly bruised cheek and stroked it lovingly. The brunet gasped. Their eyes locked.

“It’s okay. I’m here now, Matt.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

A dream.  
  
It could only be a dream. Dom couldn’t be here, after all. He was in jail. He was gone. He would never see him again.  
  
But the blonde in front of him touched his cheek and caressed it like he always did whenever they ended up in bed and had one of their softer moments. And it felt so, so real, like salvation coming to embrace him and end his misery in this shithole.  
  
“It’s okay. I’m here now, Matt,” Dom said and, for one moment, Matt believed it.  
  
“Come on,” the blonde continued and pulled Matt up so he would sit on the edge of the bed. “We have to get out of here.”  
  
Matt shook his head and closed his eyes. “You can’t be real.”  
  
“What are you talking about?”  
  
“You.” Matt waved his hands around in a fruitless effort to articulate his thought chaos. Dom could safely say that he’d missed it, a lot. “You can’t be here. No one can find me here. And you’re… because of me…”  
  
“No, no, no.” Dom grabbed his shoulders tightly. “I’m here. I’m  _here_. And we’re going home now. You and me together.”  
  
The drummer softly kissed his cheek. Matt didn’t know what to do. He wouldn’t survive this, not again. He wanted to see Dom again, the real Dom, not his made up versions. He wanted  _home_.  
  
His eyes fell to Dom’s hands resting on his thighs. His brow creased when he saw something that felt off to him.  
  
“You’re hurt.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
There was blood on the blonde’s palm. He grabbed the hand and inspected the cut carefully. It wasn’t a deep cut, just enough to make it bleed, but still, it was a wound. The Dom in his dreams was never hurt. He was always as perfect and pristine as he’d been the last day they’d spent together.  
  
Feeling brave, his eyes roamed the drummer’s face. Looking at him properly now, Matt could see that this Dom was indeed different from his made up versions. This one looked like he had lost a few pounds and dark circles rimmed the paper-thin skin under his eyes. He looked wrecked and if Matt hadn’t known any better he would have thought the drummer had easily aged by a couple of years since their last meeting.  
  
“Dom…”  
  
Matt raised his hand to touch Dom’s chest, then his shoulders and finally his face. He felt real to his touch, the warm and smooth texture of skin under his fingertips, not like all the other times when Matt had made up the drummer so he wouldn’t feel so alone and could fall asleep.  
  
With a broken sob he lunged forward into Dom’s arms who struggled to keep his balance for a moment. Matt pressed his face into the firm chest and the blonde immediately wrapped his arms around his skinny frame to hug him tightly. His own eyes watered when he heard the heart wrenching noises Matt released into the fabric over his chest.  
  
“I’m here,” Dom repeated once again and softly kissed the smaller man’s temple. It was still unbelievable to him to hold the singer after such a long time.  
  
“I thought I’d never see you again.”  
  
“I know, me too.”  
  
“How did you-” Another sob ripped through the lithe body. “How did you find me? Did you get my message?”  
  
Dom nodded. He then took Matt’s left hand and raised it to eye level. The necklace still dangled from the thin wrist.. “I did. She stole my necklace the other day, but I couldn’t make the connection until I saw the video.”  
  
He slowly tried to get up from his crouched position and pull Matt with him, but somehow the singer seemed to be unable to move. “We can talk later. For now, we have to get out of here.”  
  
“But…” the brunette mumbled something unintelligible before looking up at his friend. “Suzanne told me you were in prison…”  
  
“I was. But I managed to overwhelm the guard and escaped. Matt, we don’t-” but the singer cut him short.  
  
“You broke out of prison? How did you find me?” The singer was frozen to the spot and although Dom clutched his arms, trying to get him up, Matt stayed immobile.  
  
“Matt, come on, we need to get going!” Frustration quickly overtook Dom’s every thought. Why couldn’t Matt just listen to him? They would have plenty of time to talk about everything  _afterwards_. Still, Matt’s body and mind seemed to work against all reasoning. “I got the information from the police station and broke into the house. Now, come on, please!” Dom sighed in exasperation. He hated begging, but whatever got Matt out of this state worked for him.  
  
The singer nodded slowly and Dom got the impression that maybe, yes, his friend was indeed suffering from some kind of overstimulation. He couldn’t really blame him considering the situation, but as his main objective was to get them out safely, Matt’s condition posed some major difficulties.  
  
“You broke in here? Without her noticing you?” Blue eyes widened in disbelief. Apparently Suzanne had made one hell of an impression on Matt.  
  
“Yeah, she’s not omniscient.”  
  
Matt frowned at that, just as if he couldn’t really believe this statement. Dom felt like giving Matt a good smack to the head to get his thoughts straight again. But maybe it was a normal reaction after his solitary confinement of sorts.  
  
“Please, Matt,” he almost whimpered and tugged at the singer’s arms again.  
  
“But Dom… you shouldn’t have come alone,” Matt whispered and added, “She’s everywhere.”  
  
“Oh for the love of… No Matt, she isn’t. I got in here, see? Her own house, and she would’ve stopped me, if she was here, no? This woman is not as smart or resourceful as she might’ve made you think.”  
  
A quiet creaking sound followed by one horribly clichéd slow-clap made Dom’s blood run cold from one second to the next while Matt went rigid in his arms. Shit, what now? Maybe he’d been a bit too rash in his assessment of the situation.  
  
“Good evening, Dominic,” Suzanne greeted him. She stood at the door and pulled a gun out of her waistband. “I didn’t expect to find you  _here_ , I must admit that. But you did well, I’m impressed. One little hero, you are. Albeit a tragic one, I fear, as your journey ends here.” She pointed the muzzle directly at him.  
  
“Well, you made sure not to make it too easy for me, seeing as you were so nice to upload the video from my place.”  
  
“Indeed. A nice surprise, wasn’t it?”  
  
Dom could hear her taking a few steps behind his back until he could feel her standing only inches behind him. Matt pressed into his chest more forcefully, afraid that they’d be separated again, maybe forever this time. He wouldn’t let that happen, though. Not again, not ever.  
  
With a sudden bout of courage he slowly turned to face her, ignoring Matt’s tiny whimpers of protest. He moved the smaller man behind him so Dom could shield him from whatever Suzanne would be doing next. The drummer stared down the gun with a mix of determination and fear.  
  
“It’s over,” he said and surprised himself with how steady he sounded. “The police knows and they will come and get you. I figured out that it was you all along and I told them. And you didn’t even realise how many clues Matt snuck into your video. Not so observant after all, huh,  _Rachel_?”  
  
She glared at him. “Oh, are they, now? How come you’re here alone, then? All your clues won’t help you now. See, I’m the one in charge. I always am.”  
  
Well, she was definitely in charge now, with a fucking gun pointing at his head. And to add to their hopeless situation, they were indeed on their own. How stupid had he been? He wasn’t going to give up, though. He’d come this close, he had Matt beside him and he would fucking get them out. It wasn’t only now or never anymore, but also a dead or alive situation.  
  
Taking a deep breath, he tried to ignore the fact that a bullet could rip through his brain any moment and collected all the courage he could find. “Let us leave now.”  
  
“Do you really believe I would do that?” She laughed at him and pulled back the hammer of the gun. “You were foolish to come here. I do not care what happens to you, but I do care about Matthew a lot. You take him with you, he reverts back to his useless self. Here he can be  _free_.”  
  
Huffing in disbelief, the blonde gritted his teeth and tried to further cover Matt’s body with his own. It was more like an instinct than anything else. Because this was Matt, after all.  _His_  Matt.  
  
“Free,” he spat disgustedly and pointedly raised his eyebrows while taking one look around his best friend’s prison. “You must be joking.”  
  
“Of course you don’t understand. I never expected you to. But Matthew knows what I have gifted him with. I gave him peace and solitude. I purged him of your influence.” With a regretful sigh she walked further into the room. “But alas, he still never quite managed to free himself of you.”  
  
That actually made Dom grin in satisfaction. Not that he believed any of the insane things she told him, but it made him feel like he had somehow managed to keep his connection with the singer. Despite their separation and everything they had both gone through. They had been each other’s lifelines. Just like it had always been and always would be.  
  
“Yeah, well,” he replied and felt Matt crouching deeper into the space behind him. That woman instilled a direct sense of fear in the smaller man and Dom hated her for it with every cell of his body. He had never seen his friend like this before and it made his heart clench painfully. “Some things do not have to be purged. Maybe you’re just not as great as you think you are. I got in here, after all. And you didn’t even notice.”  
  
“Oh please,” she snorted, “of course I noticed. Your climbing into my house over a tree was not exactly subtle. I didn’t expect you to come this far, or find him this quickly, granted, but that does not change a thing.” She waved dismissively at him and actually had the nerve to roll her eyes in annoyance. “I just do not deem you a real threat. But it was entertaining to watch you try. You are nothing but a pathetic fool. Who would even think about taking action like you did without frequenting the police? You came here unarmed and without backup.”  
  
“I meant it when I said that they know! They know about the necklace and your dead accomplice and your connection to the café and your fake identity. They know everything and they will come and get you!” Well, technically it wasn’t a lie. And Whitman probably already had a good idea of where he had been headed after his prison break, anyway. But there was no way of being completely sure that help was already on its way. It didn’t really matter, though, the only person he could really rely on at the moment was himself. That had been the premise from the moment on he had decided to act on his plan.  
  
Suzanne’s face had taken on an expression of sheer contempt and she pursed her lips as she looked down at him. For a second it really seemed like she was considering his words, but then a sneer formed on her face and she took a few more steps towards him.  
  
“See, that’s the difference between you and me. I know when a plan has failed,” she almost laughed.  
  
“How has my plan failed? I’m here, aren’t I?” Dom spat back, still trying to shield as much of Matt’s body with his own as possible.  
  
“Yes, you are. And you are going to stay,” she grinned. “I think Matthew would like that. Wouldn’t you?” She leant forward just a little so as to get a look at the frightened singer. He didn’t move, didn’t react, didn’t even give the slightest indication that he had heard her. “Yes, I think he would.”  
  
“No one is going to stay! Matt and I are going to leave and you’re going to prison!” Dom retorted, but didn’t really feel the same confidence he tried to exude. Not with a gun still pointed at his head. Yes, he had come this far and no, he didn’t plan on giving up now. But he wasn’t the fearless hero his actions suggested. Truth be told, he was scared as fuck.  
  
Suzanne rolled her eyes at him and in one swift motion turned the gun around in her hand, gripping the barrel with her nimble fingers and, without another word, taking a swing to let the pistol butt connect with the side of Dom’s head. It happened so quickly that Dom didn’t have the chance to react. The pain that was now shooting through his head and from there spreading through his body was blinding. All control over his limbs seemed to leave him and for a second there were only little, sparkly stars dancing in front of his eyes. His body crumbled, his own weight suddenly too much to support. Then his shoulder met the ground and he rolled forward a bit, grabbing for his head, the source of his pain, but it did nothing to ease it.  
  
Ironically, it was exactly this Matt had needed to get out of his fear induced stupor. He was beside the drummer in an instant, stroking some of his hair out of his forehead to get a look at the dilated eyes of his friend. Blood slowly started to trickle out of the gash the gun had caused.  
  
“Dom…” the singer breathed, feeling wholly responsible for the misery Dom had gotten himself into by coming to his rescue.  
  
All the while Suzanne had slowly started to walk back to the door, a triumphant look on her face as she looked over her shoulder at the distraught musicians. Dom didn’t leave Matt any time to inspect the wound. The drummer’s head was pounding madly, but he knew all would have been in vain if he let her shut that door now.  
  
“Sleep now,” she whispered almost patronisingly and already had her hand on the door handle.  
  
It was that moment Dom managed to get together enough strength to get to his knees again. He shoved Matt to the side and pushed himself into a crouching position. His head was still spinning, but he already saw the door closing behind their captor. It was one of those now or never situations and so the drummer took everything he had left and sprinted towards the massive metal door, leaving Matt sitting on the floor with a horrified expression on his face. More pain shot through his every fibre as his shoulder crashed into the metal. But it worked. It really worked! The door flew open once more and he could hear Suzanne smash into it forcefully on the other side.  
  
Taking just a second to catch his laboured breath, he snuck a look around the door and saw Suzanne lying between the door and the white-washed wall, her head lolling oddly on her shoulder with her eyes unfocused.  
  
“Matt!” he then cried out and quickly made his way back to the singer. “Get up, we need to hurry!”  
  
“Dom, what-” Matt started, giving him a startled look, but got pulled to his feet by his friend.  
  
“There is no time,” Dom silenced him and, with a firm grip on his forearm, pulled him through the door and past the slowly recovering Suzanne.  
  
“I… I can’t believe it…” Matt mumbled as they stormed towards the first flight of stairs. “We could manage… Do you think we’ll manage?” A spark of hope glistened in his eyes and Dom’s heart skipped a beat. Matt had finally come back to reality, to him. Now they  _would_  manage. He was sure of it.  
  
One last glance over his shoulder made Matt’s blood freeze, though. Suzanne had managed to get back on her feet, and although she still looked utterly disoriented and clumsy, she was still a force to be reckoned with.  
  
“Run!” Matt screamed at the top of his lungs and that spurted Dom on even more.  
  
Just as they reached the upper basement, a loud shot rang through the hallway and Matt’s eyes widened when he saw the tiny black hole in the white wall to his left. Shit! She had recovered far too quickly. Her aim wasn’t the best yet, but that would only be a matter of time. A short time. Dom was thinking the exact same thing as his grip around Matt’s arm tightened and he moved up a gear.  
  
Finally Dom’s hand closed around the handle of the upper basement door and they stumbled into the long, nightmarish ground floor corridor. Quick-wittedly, Dom threw the door shut behind them again and while his sight was slowly coming back into focus, he managed to push the still stinging pain that made his temple throb to the back of his mind. Adrenaline was a wondrous thing, he mused.  
  
Without hesitation, they moved on. Running past countless doors Dom tried to remember the way he had come. There were the stairs he had climbed down. Or were they? Everything looked kind of the same and he could not be too sure. There were decorations he thought he had seen before. Pictures and vases and tiny statues flew past them in a blur and the only steady thing in that moment was the connection between Dom’s hand and Matt’s wrist. His grip had slipped a bit, but it actually left Matt more room to run properly. Maybe if they just got to the front door…  
  
And just like that it came into view. A huge, richly decorated door with stained-glass windows.  
  
“Yes!” Dom breathed, almost relieved.  
  
But then Matt’s muscles flexed under his fingers and he heard him say, “Dom, it’s locked. I tried to get out before, but it was locked!”  
  
“No,” the blonde replied stubbornly and only stopped when they were standing directly in front of the door. Taking no time to think, he let go of Matt’s wrist to grip the golden handle and started to push and pull, Matt shifting nervously from one leg to the other next to him, constantly turning around to check for any signs of Suzanne. But no matter how hard Dom tried, the stupid thing just wouldn’t give way.  
  
“Shit,” he breathed, rubbing the sweat and tiny rivulets of blood off his forehead, and turned back to Matt. There had to be another way out.  _Think, Howard! Think!_  The window he’d entered through was no option, they’d break their necks trying to get down there. Not to mention that they’d never be quick enough. So what else could they do? He tried to remember the various rooms he’d seen. Most of them had been door- and windowless. Except… The glass room! Yes! Maybe they could get out through the glass room! Then a loud bang sounded through the corridor.  
  
Two pairs of eyes turned back the way they’d come and only a second later the most unwanted figure of all turned a corner and came into view, gun cocked and eyes firmly trained on the two men. While Matt seemed to be frozen to the spot again, Dom wasn’t quite ready to let her win, yet.  
  
“Come on, I know where to go!” he urged Matt on and shouted, “This way,” while pointing towards another hall to their right. He couldn’t be too sure if he had indeed come this way, but they had no other choice if they wanted to find the glass room again. He couldn’t and wouldn’t disappoint Matt, and this was the only solution he had left.  
  
When they turned into the corridor he recognised a few items on shelves he’d seen before. Maybe he had remembered correctly. But there was still the problem of the millions of doors lining the corridor. Which door was it? Which door led to the room made completely of glass?  
  
With his brain having taken the hard blow earlier it couldn’t stay focused on the matter  _and_  coordinate his legs correctly at the same time anymore. The blonde’s foot caught on the carpet and his body rushed forward, his hands pushing forward to cushion his fall. Still, he groaned when his body came in contact with the floor, his head throbbing once again painfully.  
  
Matt was in front of him, but stopped dead in his tracks when he realised that the drummer wasn’t following him anymore. He turned around and approached Dom, who shook his head weakly.  _Run, you idiot_ , he thought when heel clad footsteps came closer.  
  
“Are you okay?” Matt asked and hauled him up without wasting another second.  
  
Dom nodded, but his head still swam from the sudden movements. Maybe he did have a concussion after all. Shaky hands then pushed his back forward and Dom turned around to see Matt trying to get him to move. Over the singer’s shoulder he could see Suzanne approaching, now dangerously close to them, and heard the ignition of the gun. That spurred him on to pull himself together and keep going. His gaze fell on the second to last door on the right which was left open. He could see a sliver of glass. Yes, that was the room. It  _had to be_.  
  
“Come on!”  
  
He pushed forward and Matt followed him until they were only a few steps away from their destination. Another shot rang through the hall, but this time it was followed by a wince from the singer and the sound of his body hitting the wall.  
  
When Dom turned everything seemed to be in slow motion. He saw his best friend’s tightly shut eyes, and how his hand clenched around his left shoulder. Red liquid seeped from between the digits. Dom’s gaze turned to Suzanne who was coming towards them, gun still raised and as dangerous as ever. He looked back to Matt, his eyes wide when the brunette stared right back at him. Panicked blue met helpless grey.  
  
And just like that, time sped up again. Matt pushed himself off the wall and against Dom before they dashed into the room they’d been intending to enter. The door was thrown shut and locked behind them, and they quickly moved away from it in case Suzanne decided to shoot them through the wood.  
  
Dom stared at the door blankly, waiting for a reaction or sound from the other side. When none came his body slowly cooled down enough to let some of the adrenaline wear off. His head hurt like he had been hit by a lorry, but it didn’t stop his mind from slowly catching up with what had happened in the corridor.  
  
“Matt!”  
  
The singer was leaning against one of the glass walls, leaving red streaks on the pristine glass when he slid down to the floor. Dom immediately crouched down next to him.  
  
“I’m okay,” Matt assured him, but he didn’t look like it, at least not to Dom. He was sweating and shaking and taking quick, shallow breaths as if in a strong fever, his whole body tense with his hand still clasped over where the bullet had apparently hit him.  
  
With shaking hands he peeled Matt’s fingers off his upper arm. Blood immediately flowed onto his own fingers, but that didn’t matter right now. He needed to assess the damage.  
  
“I’m sorry. Oh god, Matt. I’m sorry!”  
  
Matt had indeed been shot. He was bleeding and hurting and it was all Dom’s fault. If he hadn’t been so clumsy and hadn’t fallen they would have entered the room and escaped. Instead, Matt was losing blood, his very life essence, and would bleed to death before they could even try to leave this hell, and it would be Dom’s fault. He would-  
  
“Dom?”  
  
Matt’s unsure whisper brought him back to reality. He couldn’t panic and lose his head now. They weren’t out of the woods and he’d promised himself and Chris he’d bring Matt home. He needed to take care of Matt, make sure he could get him out of here. That was Priority Number 1. Yes, capital letters.  _Keep your head cool, just for a bit longer_. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. After the second intake he could already feel his panic recede a bit. He could do this. They were so close.  
  
As calmly as he could he inspected the wound and found no hole. The bullet seemed to have grazed the singer’s shoulder. There was a semi-deep gash, but no hole.  _No hole_ , he thought and released the breath he’d been holding. However, Dom wasn’t an expert in gun wounds - or well, any wounds, really - and he wouldn’t trust his own assessment. Matt needed medical attention, and that as quickly as possible.  
  
A warm hand on his cheek made the drummer look up. Matt stared at him intently and rubbed his skin before his hand traveled up to push the few strands of blood soaked hair out of his face again.  
  
“You’re bleeding,” he stated quietly.  
  
Dom countered, “So are you.” The situation felt so bizarre to him that he couldn’t help but grin.  
  
Matt returned it tentatively, but winced immediately when he moved his arm. Dom didn’t waste another second and ripped a piece from his shirt. He then tied it around Matt’s shoulder and made sure it was tight enough to stop the bleeding.  
  
Once, years ago, Matt had taken Dom to a shooting ranch on a whim. There had been a course about how to treat gun wounds in case first aid was needed. The instructor had explained that first and foremost it was important to stop the bleeding and had proceeded to show them how to tie the bandage properly. At the time Dom had found the whole thing stupid and unnecessary because he hadn’t intended to go back ever again, let alone end up in a shooting, but now he was thankful for every bit of information he had soaked up. There had also been a lot of talk about how the victim had to be kept still, but that wasn’t an option right now. Shock treatment didn’t seem to be needed, as Matt was responsive and as focused as the situation allowed him to be. Was there anything else the instructor had said? He tried to remember any additional information, but his brain came up with nothing. New panic rose in him. What if he had forgotten anything essential? He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he could have prevented Matt from suffering even more.  
  
“Last chance to come out on your own free will,” they heard Suzanne from the other side of the door, successfully interrupting Dom’s dark train of thought. “Come home, Matthew. Or I’ll have to hang poor Dominic’s remains over your bed to remind you of the consequences of your behaviour.”  
  
“Dom, maybe I should…” Matt started, but didn’t even get a chance to finish his sentence.  
  
“No, cut that crap! Don’t even try to be some martyr arsehole, you’re not going back into that shithole, and I’m not going to leave you,” Dom scolded him immediately.  
  
“But… you shouldn’t even be here,” the singer voiced on a laboured breath and pressed his hand back to the bandage.  
  
“Jesus fucking Christ!” the blonde cried out in exasperation. “Don’t you even dare! We’re not, I repeat,  _not_  going there. No one is going to be left behind, we’re not in some stupid movie. Got it?”  
  
“Yeah.” Matt nodded reluctantly and averted his eyes. Truth be told, he didn’t have much hope left. Yes, Dom had gotten them out of the basement. Yes, they’d shut out Suzanne for the moment. But now he was a burden to his friend and to himself, more a liability than a help. His head was swimming and he felt dizzy from pain and blood loss.  
  
Dom felt Matt’s insecurity and could see the doubt in his eyes. Slowly he placed his hands on the singer’s sagged shoulders, forcing the smaller man to look at him. “Listen, we’re going to do this. I’ll get you out of here, no matter what. I promise you that. Now, let’s get you up.” Carefully, he pulled Matt back to his feet and, with an almost begging look, urged him to stay there.  
  
Then the drummer quickly scanned the room properly for the first time. The windows looked old, not the modern double-glazing you would find in a newer house. But still, there was no window that stood out from the others, none that looked like it also acted as a door. He could see the hedge he’d tried to get through earlier in the pale light of dusk. Maybe this would have to be their escape now.  
  
With an unsure smile he turned back to Matt who was still leaning against one of the furthest windows. “It always works in the movies, right?”  
“What does?” Matt replied quietly and kept pressing his hand to his hurting shoulder.  
  
“Jumping through a window, badass style,” Dom tried to force a smile out of his friend, but saw fear in his eyes.  
  
“I’m not going to make it,” the brunette mumbled, trying to keep himself upright.  
  
Disbelievingly, Dom shook his head and took a few swift steps to close the distance between them. Since his arrival Matt had already gone through so many mood changes that it made Dom’s head spin. He’d been catatonic and hopeless, active and all there, and now he was close to giving up again. And he hated it. He hated this side of his best friend, and in this moment they - _he_  - needed nothing more than crazy, adventurous Matt. The Matt who wouldn’t give up easily and was reckless beyond anything Dom had ever seen, who’d jump through a window and a ring of fire if needed.  
  
Matt winced a bit as Dom lightly stroked his arm and tried to make the singer look at him again. The blonde felt a pang in his stomach when he realised that every touch seemed to cause his friend more pain. So instead of insisting on letting Matt check his wound again, he put a hand to the side of his neck. Immediately, Matt’s eyes snapped up and met his.  
  
“Matt…” he sighed deeply. “Look, I know that this is very hard on you. I cannot even start to imagine what you have gone through and what has brought this… this resignation on you. But you have to trust me. There is nothing I want more than to get you out of here. You have to understand that! We have come this far and I am never ever going to leave without you. You know you mean the world to me, right? I never gave up on you so please do the same.”  
  
“Dom…”  
  
“No… I mean it, Matt. You’re the most important person in my life. I… “ He took a deep breath. No going back, might as well get it out now. “I love you so much. And I won’t accept a life without you.”  
  
At that, Matt’s eyes widened and he went completely rigid. “Dom,” he repeated shakily, but the blonde just smiled softly. When no further reaction came from the singer, though, just wide-eyed staring, Dom’s smile dropped a bit and he turned back to further inspect the window wall. Apparently the singer was still too out of it to realise what was going on around him. He hid his sigh from Matt because he didn’t want to upset him, but secretly he wished badly for Normal Matt’s return (and wasn’t that something he’d never thought he would say?). He could really use some help right about now.  
  
“Alright, let’s get out of here.”  
  
Feeling on his one once more, he knelt down by a window and tried to find out a weak spot, fingering around the frame and examining its structure. Obviously they seemed to be least stable towards the centre. He tapped the glass with his fingers and found this theory confirmed as it seemed to rattle quietly.  
  
Suddenly the blonde sensed his friend approaching and quickly got up to his feet again, worry written all over his features. “You alright?”  
  
The answering nod was a lot more self-assured than Matt’s previous actions had been and Dom could see that his posture had changed as well. The singer let go of his shoulder in favour of grabbing Dom’s hand. Relief instantly flooded the blonde and he squeezed Matt’s fingers reassuringly.  
  
Matt still felt completely dumbfounded and wasn’t sure what to make of Dom’s declaration. Did he mean it? Or was it some out-of-the-moment stuff? Did he say it to get his brain to work again? In any case, it had definitely helped. Matt finally felt some life pumping through his body again. There was blood in his arteries, air in his lungs, feeling in his limbs, movement in his heart, and thoughts in his head. He felt  _alive_.  
  
“Let’s do this,” Matt said and nodded to the window. “You’re right, it always works in the movies. And it’s our best shot.”  
  
It was that moment when another deafening shot rang through the hallway and made the door they’d come through shake dangerously. Instinctively, Dom tightened his grip around Matt’s hand and pulled the singer with him. They needed some motion if they wanted to actually break that window. Another sharp sound at the door handle announced how Suzanne was rapidly closing in on them.  
  
“You ready?” The blonde looked at Matt, knowing that they had to jump anyway, no matter how ready they actually were.  
  
The singer seemed to be thinking the same as he nodded and then trained his eyes on the glass. It seemed to grow more massive by the second, but that was probably just his imagination. Because, yes, he was scared alright. But that didn’t change him in his resolve to trust Dom and just go with him.  
  
“On 3. 1…”  
  
The doorknob rattled loudly, another shot ringing through the room when the bullet hit the metal of the lock. Matt looked nervously behind him.  
  
“2…”  
  
The door swung open.  
  
“3!” Dom shouted and together they sprinted towards the window when Suzanne entered the room, angry eyes trying to locate them.  
  
Their hands squeezed tighter and their other arms flew up (Matt wincing from the effort) to shield their faces from the upcoming impact. Closer and closer to freedom, until they finally hit the transparent barrier and-  
  
Matt's mind went blank.

_____

 

“Matt, come on!” the blonde cried out and tried to pull the singer up again.

“Yeah,” Matt groaned dizzily and felt his legs wobble dangerously under his weight as he got back to his feet.

The impact with the window and afterwards with the ground had made him blackout for a moment, but now he seemed to be recovering again. But if the pain in his shoulder had felt bad before, it was now literally unbearable. The two of them had rolled downhill quite a distance and the house was now at least a few yards away.

“Hurry!” The blonde urged him on, but on seeing how weak Matt was, he slung his arm over his shoulder and half-carried his friend.

“There is no way out, don’t you understand? Matthew is meant to be here!” Suzanne shouted through the broken window and stepped out onto the lawn, gun raised at eye level.

“Run!” This time it was Matt’s shaky voice that sounded through the garden which seemed to morph into a labyrinth in front of them.

There were hedges everywhere and Dom looked around frantically. He wasn’t sure which one was the real hedge, the one actually surrounding the garden. They all looked alike and shit, how were they supposed to get out now?

Still, Matt’s voice kept ringing in his ears and that one single word spurred him on to no end. They had come this far. He wouldn’t let them die now. Not ever. Not if there was still an ounce of hope left in them. Matt was getting more focused by the second and his legs seemed to grow steadier again. There was hope.

Then a loud shot ripped through the otherwise silent pre-night air. Quickly Dom shoved Matt behind the first hedge they reached, dodged, and covered his friend’s head with his torso. Crouching awkwardly for a moment, the two tried to catch their breaths. There was no time, though. Suzanne was approaching in long strides, her face contorted by anger and fury.

“We can do this,” Dom whispered into Matt’s ear and the brunette nodded, although timidly. “Okay, we need to keep going. Maybe we can shake her off between the hedgerows. And then find a way out. I know there is one. I tried to get through here before.” Again Matt just nodded his head. Without Dom he would have died at least five times already, so he could do nothing but trust him.

“Wait for my sign,” the drummer said and leant forward a bit to sneak a glance around a dark green bush.

Suzanne was already halfway down the little hill and Dom’s eyes widened in shock.

“Now!” He shouted and, without warning, grabbed Matt’s uninjured arm to make a run for it.

The two musicians hurried past weird hedge formations, feeling like the garden was an extension of the nightmarish interior of the house, and tried to hide a few times but failed miserably. As it turned out, plants were not really bullet-proof and they could only hope that Suzanne would keep missing them. Which she did, but a few times only by mere inches.

Why are there no police sirens yet? Someone must’ve heard the crazy shooting by now, right? Dom thought as his brain went riot. Because even if they did manage to get out of the garden, they would still need help. If they got out, Suzanne would, too.

The ground beneath their feet seemed to get softer with each step they took. In reality Dom knew it wasn’t that the ground that changed, though, but the exhaustion numbing their legs. Running got harder by the minute and the blonde just wished for the right hedge to appear. Matt left more and more of his weight for Dom to carry and every second step he took, he stumbled. The drummer had never been one for religion, but now he silently sent desperate prayers up to the heavens. They needed all the help they could get.

Yet another bullet tore a hole into one of the hedges next to them, and wood splinters and tiny leaves danced through the air around them. The house wasn’t even visible anymore, completely blocked from view, and Dom felt like he had lost all sense of orientation.

“Come,” he panted and, on a sudden whim, pulled Matt around another corner to their left. They’d been running almost straight away from the the house, so theoretically the street had to be on their left. Better a desperate plan than none at all.

Sensing that Dom had an idea, Matt tried to get his head back into the chase. For a while his mind had slipped a little, leaving all responsibility to his friend. But he knew it was unfair. He needed to help. Or at least not let Dom carry all of the weight, metaphorically as well as literally. With this thought going round his head, he tried his best to get his legs back under control. Dom’s body instantly straightened up the slightest bit and Matt felt relief flooding through the drummer, showing in the way he held himself.

They were now directly headed for an especially huge hedge. From their current position it looked like one massive wall, the pale light of dusk throwing creepy shadows across it. Matt’s eyes widened as Dom didn’t slow down in the least and instead rushed towards it like their lives depended on it. Which they did, really.

“Duck!” Dom shouted at him and just in time because suddenly Matt saw what they were about to reach.

There was a hole or more like what looked like a tunnel opening. About four feet high and pitch black, it was only visible from up close. Both men ducked down and kept running with their heads bowed. Armed with thorny twigs and thicker trunks that seemed to appear out of nowhere, the hedge was apparently dead set on making their escape as hard as possible.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, they suddenly broke free. A bit disoriented, Dom didn’t let go off Matt for the fear of someone taking him again. Two pairs of eyes scanned the new surroundings while the shots behind them fell silent from one moment to the next. Matt jerked his head around and looked back at the wall that now separated them from their pursuer. The silence didn’t bode well, of that much he was sure.

It was that exact moment that a car appeared at the end of the road, coming closer at alarming speed. To the brunette’s utter horror, Dom didn’t waste another second and pulled him on the street with him, right in front of the car. The driver’s eyes were wide as he jumped on the brakes and managed to stop his car last second. For the first time in forever a huge, relieved smile appeared on the drummer’s face.

“Whitman! Finally!”

Oh, Dom knew the man.

“Dominic! Wolstenholme called me! Where’s Harrison?” The CI quickly climbed out of his car, his eyes trained on the blonde.

“Who?” Dom asked in confusion, his mind already focused on the hedge again.

“Rachel! Suzanne! Whatever she calls herself!”

“Oh! She’s after us!” the drummer cried out and pulled Matt around the car.

Then Whitman’s eyes finally landed on a battered and completely beat looking Matt and he did a double take. The singer was out! His attention quickly followed Dom’s, though, ever the professional, and not a second too late as suddenly a shot tore through the hedge and Suzanne appeared from it a moment later. Her face was just as scratched and bloody as theirs were and her eyes flashed with anger.

To the CI it seemed almost impossible that this tiny, fragile woman was responsible for all the misery the band and their families had gone through over the past few weeks. But, as he had learnt over years and years on the job, nothing was impossible, not when it came to human psychology.

“Police! Put down your gun, Ms Harrison! It’s over!” Whitman shouted, his gun raised and pointed directly at her.

Suzanne didn’t even seem to notice the chief inspector, though, and instead had her eyes firmly fixed on the two musicians behind the car. Slowly she raised her gun again, both hands on its butt, and took a few deliberate steps towards them. Immediately Whitman edged closer to her fireline, trying to avert her attention from the two men.

“You are a pest, Dominic. You destroyed everything. Everything Matthew and I worked for so hard.” Her voice was low but steady and clear, filled with pure contempt.

“Stay where you are!” The CI warned her, but she still ignored him. “Ms Harrison, I’ll have to shoot if you take one more step!”

Dom stared at her in utter horror and Matt pressed into his side, eyes wide open and transfixed on the woman who had brought him so much pain. The blonde wanted to step in front of his friend to protect him, but now his body denied him all further cooperation. He was frozen to the spot, blood pumping in his ears and his heart skipping every second beat. He felt like, any moment now, he would pass out from tension and fear.

The triumphant sneer that emerged on her thin lips suggested that she knew exactly what the drummer was thinking. Her fingers twitched restlessly around the trigger and Whitman set his jaw in grim determination. Then everything seemed to happen at once, like slow motion turned to fast forward.

Suzanne took another step towards them. A shot was fired and sounded through the suffocating silence, pushing everyone’s eardrums to their limits. Matt and Dom squeezed their eyes shut simultaneously. A dull, sickening thud and a barely audible breath being sucked in followed by deafening silence.

When Dom opened his eyes again he saw Suzanne standing there as if frozen in time. Her arms still raised and her eyes wide with shock. He was just about to do something, anything to get away, when he realised what had happened.

At first there was a tiny hole in her blouse which quickly turned a dark shade of red. Then it spread further and further, like a wildfire on a rampage, dousing her chest in blood and death.

„No!“

A desperate scream brought him back to reality. The singer pushed away from him forcefully and Dom couldn’t hold onto him in time to prevent him from running over to the slowly crumbling form of his former captor.

The blonde watched Matt fall to his knees next to her, wide eyes assessing the damage. Shaking hands flew to Suzanne’s chest and pressed on where the bullet had ripped through her body. Dom took careful steps towards the two of them, his eyes trained on Matt’s face, where fat tears rolled down his cheeks and deep sobs shook his body.

“No, no, no, no,” the singer whispered and his voice actually broke at the end. “Don’t die. Please, you can’t.” Another sob escaped his lips and Dom’s inside turned to knots. Was Matt…

Suzanne turned her gaze to Matt then, her eyes going in and out of focus. A frown marred her face as if she was trying to process something. A trail of blood trickled from her mouth, Dom could see. A clear sign Whitman had hit one of her lungs.

“Matthew,” she finally whispered and coughed with effort. Her body was weak, but she still managed to raise her hand to his cheek. She stroked it softly, and Matt let her, too concentrated on stopping the blood flow from her chest.

“Don’t die,” he repeated. “You can’t. Not after this. Not after everything you’ve put me through.”

“Oh, Matthew.”

Whitman had moved up to them as well now, and stopped next to Dom. He holstered his gun and laid a hand on the drummer’s shoulder, but Dom was frozen to the spot, too horrified by what was going on in front of him. This was so surreal, so out of place. If he hadn’t known any better he would have thought there was a special bond between these two. Well, in a way there was, but not in that way. It shouldn’t be like this.

Another broken cough ripped through her body before Suzanne’s mouth turned into something that could have been a kind and loving smile if they hadn’t known that she was a psychopath.

“You’re so beautiful, Matthew.”

Her hand moved from his cheek to his chin, her thumb lying on Matt’s bottom lip. She whispered, “So beautiful. And yet, so broken and incomplete.”

Her eyes closed and her hand fell, and Matthew let out an animalistic cry.

“No… no,” he panted and Dom reached out with an unsteady hand, wanting to soothe his friend. But he didn’t understand. Matt had been so scared of her and now… He looked like there was nothing he wanted more than to bring her back.

“Mr Bellamy…” Whitman eventually interrupted Matt’s miserable sobs, laid his hands on the smaller man’s shoulders and tried to get him to his feet again. “She’s gone. For good.”

Matt was so close to him and yet Dom had never felt so removed from him. He wanted to understand. Everything was over now, they were safe. Why was Matt acting out like this? Was he suffering from some extreme case of Stockholm Syndrome? It was the only way he could explain it. Maybe Dom had gotten it all wrong, maybe Matt hadn’t been in a state of shock. Maybe he just didn’t want to be saved. But he’d run with Dom, hadn’t he? Why would he have done that if he had wanted to stay with her? The blonde retracted his hand and stood there, silently and unable to understand.

For a second Matt resisted the CI’s attempt at getting him away from the dead body, but then the brunette’s eyes finally fell on the drummer again. Dom wasn’t sure what to make of his pain-ridden expression and he felt completely torn and devastated. This was not fair! It wasn’t right! Fresh tears welled up in the singer’s eyes and before Dom could even think about reacting he had an arm full of Matt pressed against his chest. Surprised, he put his arms around the battered body and rubbed his back.

He still wasn’t sure what was going on inside the brunette’s head, but at least he didn’t blame Dom for anything. Because that had been his biggest fear after Matt’s twisted reaction to his former captor’s death.

“I’m going to call an ambulance and my team. You keep an eye on him,” Whitman said quietly and Dom just nodded, letting Matt soak his shirt with his tears.

Dom moved them to Whitman’s car, far away from Suzanne, and Matt let himself be handled into a sitting position on the back seat once Dom had managed to open the door. The drummer sat in front of him and slung his arms around the singer again, who followed and laid his head back against Dom’s chest. The sobs had subsided and the only sounds the singer made came from his heavy breathing.

Everything felt so calm about them and Dom couldn’t believe the last couple of hours… how long had it been anyway? The sun had gone down some time between them breaking through the glass wall and Suzanne dying outside of what had come to be Matt’s prison. To Dom it seemed like only a few minutes had passed, and yet, it felt like a lifetime.

He looked down at Matt’s dark mop of hair and his breath hitched slightly when he realised that it was all over.

Only minutes later several cars pulled up and Dom could make out the ambulance, closely followed by two more police cars. It took less than a few moments until the street was swarmed with people, paramedics, police officers, the like. Some of them busied themselves with securing the crime scene, others went off to check the house, and two, dressed in neon-yellow jackets, came over to where Matt and Dom were keeping their distance to the corpse.

One of them, a woman, immediately started to examine Dom’s face, dabbed his cuts and the wound with antiseptics, and told him that he might need to get x-rayed at the hospital. The wound didn’t look too bad, but she couldn’t rule out a concussion. Then she proceeded to wrap his head in a light bandage to keep pressure on the wound. He still needed stitches, but she said that it could wait until they were at the hospital. All the while his eyes were fixed on Matt, though. He watched as the other paramedic checked Matt’s pupillary response and spoke to him in a calming voice. Still, Matt looked restless and unable to keep up with the situation.

“Mr Bellamy, your injuries need some closer examination. Do you think you can walk or would it be better if we got the stretcher to carry you over?”

“No! No, I can walk,” Matt replied instantly, almost horrified.

It pained Dom to see how his friend tried to pull himself out of the car with only one hand. His legs still seemed to be a bit uncooperative, but he didn’t accept any help from the paramedics. Why was that? Didn’t Matt trust them? Was it his need to prove that he was at least still able to walk on his own? Was it… his pride kicking in again? The yellow-clad man indulged him patiently, but always stayed close in case Matt needed help, after all.

Dom felt weirdly out of place at that moment. The woman just handed him a shock blanket when he averted his eyes from the singer’s back. But then the unsteady footsteps stopped and instinctively Dom looked up again. Matt watched him over his shoulder, the paramedic still close by. A small frown formed on the brunette’s face.

“Aren’t you coming with me?” Matt’s voice was small and full of… fear. There was still fear.

Immediately the drummer took a step forward, not needing to be asked twice. But then the man next to Matt stepped in.

“Sorry, you have to stay out for the examination,” he said and really did sound sorry.

For a second Dom felt like protesting, but he understood the procedure and eventually just nodded. Then he gave Matt a soft smile and said, “It’s okay, I’ll be waiting outside.” And because he could see Matt’s begging eyes he added, “I promise. I’m not going anywhere.”

The brunette nodded reluctantly and let the paramedic guide him inside the ambulance. The guy apparently understood how important it was for the 2 musicians to see each other, so he made sure the door stayed open a bit. Just a sliver, but enough so Dom could look inside and keep an eye on his friend, and Matt could see Dom standing outside which reassured him greatly and allowed the paramedic to do his job. Dom made a mental note to thank the guy later on.

He watched the paramedics do their work for about 10 minutes until Whitman joined him.

“You okay?” he asked gently and handed Dom a pack of cigarettes. The man already knew him too well, Dom mused.

“I guess so. It’s just… It was a really long day.”

Whitman nodded and lit the cigarette the drummer had taken. They both smoked quietly and let the events of the day pass through their minds.

“Where’s Thompson?”

“Back at the station,” Whitman replied. “He’s wrapping up another case and lets me do the dirty work here.”

“I see.” Dom took a long drag from his cigarette.

“What you did was pretty reckless, Mr Howard.”

A tight knot formed in the pit of the blonde’s stomach. “I know. I’m…” He couldn’t say that he was sorry, it would be a lie. Just because of what he had done Matt was free. He didn’t want to think about how things would have unfolded if he’d followed the CI’s advice. But he remembered what he’d done to get here and that made him feel truly terrible.

“I didn’t want to… do some of these things,” he explained and looked at the ground. “Is he… Is the guard alright?”

“Yes. Just a horrendous headache.”

Dom breathed a sigh of relief.

“But you’re in deep shit now. Knocking out a police officer on duty and fleeing from custody isn’t to be taken lightly.”

The drummer hummed. “I know. And I know you want to hear that I’m sorry and that I regret having done what I did, but I can’t. I am not proud of it, but I don’t regret it. You can do whatever you want with me, I don’t care. Matt is safe, that’s the only thing that counts. So if you’ve come to arrest me, I won’t fight you, but I ask you to wait until one of our mates is with Matt. I don’t want to see him alone right now.”

As if on cue they heard shouting from the side of the street. They both turned their heads to see Chris being held back by a police officer who apparently wouldn’t let him pass. Chris barked something at him that couldn’t be understood. From the way Chris’ face had turned a deep, angry shade of red, it wasn’t anything too polite. Whatever it was, the officer didn’t budge.

“I’ll take care of it,” Whitman told Dom and walked over to the two men.

Dom watched the CI talk to the officer and then turn to Chris to speak with him. The bassist nodded before he moved past the two policemen and ran over to Dom.

The blonde didn’t know what he had expected from the reunion. There still was a lecture to be given because, yes, Dom indeed knew that what he’d done was reckless and stupid, and Chris would definitely get back to it, being the full-time dad that he was. He reckoned there was also the possibility of getting hit in the face. He winced at that thought. He really didn’t want to get his face smashed in right now, but then again, he probably deserved it. He could only guess how worried Chris must have been at the possibility of losing another friend, of losing him. He had to apologise to him as soon as possible.

What he hadn’t expected, however, was Chris grabbing his shoulders and pulling him into a fierce hug. The taller man squeezed him so hard that Dom felt as if his airways were closing up, but he didn’t have the heart to tell his friend. Instead he simply returned the hug.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“I was so scared. I know you told me to hang on and not do anything, but I just… I couldn’t let you run in like that. I- I called Whitman and told him what you were doing. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Dom squeezed the bassist’s shoulder in affection. “I was an idiot. You saved our arses.” And as if realisation settled in just now he repeated, “You saved our lives.”

He suddenly felt dizzy and swayed in the bassist’s arms. Fuck. Yes, Chris had saved them with that call to Whitman. Suzanne could have shot them on the streets. She obviously hadn’t given a flying fuck anymore.

He looked over to where her body had lain. The spot was now empty, the body probably on the way to the morgue already. The only reminder of what had happened were the flecks of dried blood that painted the pavement dark brown.

“She’s dead now. Whitman shot her. She… Matt couldn’t…”

“Matt,” Chris said as if he only realised now that he could see the singer. “Where is he?”

Dom pointed to the ambulance. “In there. He got shot and-”

Chris didn’t waste another second. He grabbed the handle and opened the door to see Matt for himself. A choked gasp escaped his lips when he saw the singer’s shirt that was soaked with blood, some of his own, but mostly Suzanne’s. Without hesitation he jumped inside.

One of the paramedics protested, but Chris wouldn’t listen to them. He touched the frontman’s uninjured shoulder and the singer’s neck until his hands landed on the small chest. Matt’s eyes followed his every movement.

“Are you okay?!” Chris asked frantically. Matt nodded yes.

“He’ll be just fine,” the paramedic that had left the door ajar piped up. “It was just a graze shot. No lasting damage, but he’ll be sore for a while.”

Matt touched Chris’ forearm then and the bassist looked first to his arm before he locked eyes with Matt.

“I’m okay,” Matt said as reassurance, probably not only to Chris and Dom but to himself as well. “I’ll be fine.”

Chris stared into his eyes for a moment longer, trying to gauge if Matt was merely lying to make them feel better or if he was indeed okay. He seemed to find only honesty there and his body relaxed visibly, his nerves calming down. Then, without giving Matt the chance to react, he leaned forward to embrace him much as he’d previously done with Dom. This time, however, the hug was a lot more timid. He didn’t want to injure the singer any further or risk the possibility of breaking him, so he was mindful to be as careful as he could in this situation.

Chris pulled back and ruffled the dark mop of hair. He smiled softly. “Welcome home, mate. It was boring without you.”

Matt returned the smile and closed his eyes.

Dom took the moment to exit the ambulance to give them some private time. If you could call it private with the paramedics being around, that is. He pulled the orange shock blanket higher up on his shoulders and looked around. There was such a stark contrast between the clear night sky with its stars shining brightly and the aggressively flashing red and blue lights of the police cars illuminating the front of the house.

Chris joined him outside the ambulance then and laid an arm around his shoulders. Dom turned his head towards his friend and saw a huge grin spreading on his face. The blonde couldn’t resist and started to grin as well, which in turn led to Chris laughing loudly. Once again, Dom followed him. It was stupid and utterly ridiculous, but what did it matter? Right at this moment, nothing mattered as much as the fact that things would be okay again.

“He’s home,” Chris stated simply once they’d calmed down. Dom could only nod. Yes, home.

Another silence settled in while the bassist looked his friend over. After a considerable amount of time he commented, “Your face looks smashed, mate.”

“Gee, thanks,” Dom sighed dramatically. It felt good to be able to joke again. “Guess I won’t be winning sexiest man in music this time around.”

“Nope, definitely not. But that has nothing to do with the cuts, really.”

Dom nudged his friend’s shoulder who faux-yelped then and the blonde couldn’t help but grin again. Yes, it definitely felt good.

One of the paramedics peeked out of the door and addressed them. “We need to take Mr Bellamy to the hospital. He’s mostly fine, but he needs to get checked properly and the wound on his shoulder needs to get stitched. One of you can drive with us.”

“Go ahead, mate,” Chris said and pushed him towards the door.

He couldn’t. Dom visibly deflated. Whitman would arrest him now that Chris was here to take care of Matt.

“I…” Dom whispered. “You should go with him.”

“What? Don’t you want to?”

The blonde turned to his friend with sad eyes. “I’m going to prison, Chris. You know what I did. They won’t… I can’t…”

His courage and determination quickly ebbed away once the adrenaline had worn off. Yes, he still didn’t regret what he’d done, but he wasn’t so brave as to face the consequences anymore. He wanted to go with Matt and stay with him, not rot away in a cell. Not to mention what he’d done to his reputation, and, in extension, the band’s reputation. He’d ruined their careers and his life. But what did it matter when Matt was breathing and moving and smiling and living?

Right in this moment Whitman walked up to them with a small notepad in his hand. Dom sighed and patted Chris on the shoulder. Wordlessly he met Whitman halfway.

“Mr Howard, shouldn’t you be inside this ambulance?”

Dom frowned at that. “I told you, you can arrest me once Chris is here. Well, he is now, so…”

“I never said I was here to arrest you, Dominic,” the CI said softly.

“What?”

“I think you will agree when I say that your escape was a desperate attempt to prove your innocence and that mitigating circumstances apply, don’t you think?”

“But…” Dom was at a loss for words.

“Go. Be with Mr Bellamy. I will take care of everything here. Just, please, this time, do as I say.”

Had Whitman just… had he just told Dom he’d cover for him? That, maybe, there was a chance to turn things around and Dom could get out of this without severe consequences?

“Go. Now.”

The drummer could only nod dumbfoundedly and turned back to the ambulance. Chris was already halfway inside but once he saw Dom approaching he retreated and made room for Dom to squeeze in.

“I’ll see you at the hospital,” he said and ran back to his car.

Dom watched him disappear behind the police line and took the last step inside. He sat down next to Matt’s head.

“I’m back,” he said and caressed the brunette’s hair.

Matt smiled up at him, “Hi.”

“Hello,” Dom replied warmly, and couldn’t help but kiss his singer again. “Are you feeling better?”

For a moment Matt seemed to ponder that question. Dom could literally see the brunette’s emotions and thoughts flick through his head while he pulled his brows together. But then, finally, he said, “Yeah… yeah, I guess I do. How are you?” The smaller man raised one hand and gingerly moved two fingers along the outline of the bandage over Dom’s wound, seeming completely transfixed by the action.

“I’m fine,” the drummer replied offhandedly. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m sorry, but I need to attach the IV now,” the friendly paramedic interrupted them as he climbed into the ambulance again.

Dom scooted over a bit to make room for the man, but didn’t take his eyes off his rescued friend. While letting the man do his work, Matt did the same. But soon his eyes started to droop and he had to suppress a yawn. No wonder considering what they had gone through. What he had gone through.

“Sorry,” the singer mumbled and rubbed at his eyes with his free hand.

“It’s okay,” Dom replied quietly. “‘s all good. You need to rest, anyway. Just… don’t worry. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?” Matt’s voice was quiet and very sleepy already.

“Promise,” the blonde assured him with a soft smile on his lips. “Promise.”

 


	13. Chapter 13

_???_

He was crouched down right next to his bed, his head between his knees and his hands folded over his neck. He would never get out of this. The dream was over. Dom hadn’t rescued him after all. Or had he? Matt didn’t remember. Everything felt blurry and the world was caving in around him as he moved his fingers up and down between his hairline and the collar of his shirt, feeling the outlines of his cervical vertebra. The walls were getting closer and the door seemed to move away from him. Further and further, into the distance until it was nothing more than a black dot on the white-walled horizon.

Matt’s head started to spin and his stomach felt like it was about to empty itself. Bile was already rising in his throat and the only thing he could do to stop the world from moving too fast, from tumbling down, was to squeeze his head tighter between his knees.

Then the door came shooting back. It was so fast, in fact, that Matt could hear it rushing towards him. For one quick moment he glanced up through his lashes, fearing that it might smash him into the wall. But then it stopped and suddenly the room was back to normal. A coughing sound came from the speakers and echoed through the room. Matt shut his eyes again. Then a quiet creak announced the arrival of his tormentor… Suzanne. His whole body went rigid and he tried to make himself smaller, cowering into his corner. But then a soft, uncertain voice said his name. His head shot up immediately.

Dom!

The singer’s eyes went wide when they took in the slim frame of his best friend, blonde hair dishevelled and blood trickling down from his lip to his chin in a thin line. _Dom_ , he wanted to shout, his lips aching to finally speak his name again. But they didn’t move. They were cold and hard and his tongue felt like lead.

Dom took one step into the room, looked around and spoke Matt’s name again and again. But the brunette remained unable to answer. His heart pumped wildly, like it was on a rampage. The rest of his body refused him all cooperation, though. There was nothing he could do but to stare at his friend and hope that he would see him. And then, yes, Dom’s grey eyes fell upon him. They narrowed in suspicion and Matt felt all the words he wanted to say die in his throat.

“Matt?” the blonde whispered in disbelief and remained in the doorway.

Matt wanted to nod and tell him, _Yes, it’s me! You came! Please… I need you!_ , but he couldn’t. The singer felt suffocated as Dom took one more step towards him and slowly shook his head, a slight frown appearing on his face.

“What did you do to him?” he asked.

What did he mean? What did he do to whom?

“Where is Matt?”

 _I’m right here in front of you! Please, just look! It’s still me!_ the voice inside his head screamed at the drummer, but remained unheard. Instead Matt tried to convey his desperation through his looks. Looks so full of fear and helplessness that he felt ashamed of himself.

“You’re not him,” Dom announced bitterly. “You look like him, but you are not. You’re hollow. Empty. You’re not Matt.”

The singer’s heart stopped beating right then and his throat seemed to close. His eyes watered and he wasn’t sure if it was for the lack of air or Dom’s cold words. _Please, just **look** at me! Dom, please!_ The words never left his mouth.

The blonde turned his back on him and dragged his feet as he slowly walked back through the door. His hand closed around the handle and pulled it after him. Matt’s whole body was in painful agitation that he just couldn’t act on. Dom needed to stay, needed to take him with, but now he was leaving him!

“You killed him,” Dom’s voice said through the small gap between door and frame before it finally fell shut. It was as if the sound released him from his paralysis and Matt ran to the door to follow Dom. It was once again locked, and he cried out loudly while his body slid down the cold metal. He was alone, and he would never leave this place.

___

 

_London – 27.08.2013_

Watching Matt sleep had always been one of Dom’s favourite pastimes. Matt was a bundle of energy, a Duracell bunny unable to stop moving and talking until its batteries had run out. In Matt’s case, these batteries never seemed to run out, however. But when he was asleep he was the calmest and most relaxed. His features remained mostly soft, but sometimes a small smile graced his lips. Did the brunette dream about a new song? Or about something as silly as his next dinner? Or maybe, just maybe, he dreamed about _Dom_?

Whatever he was dreaming about now, however, wasn’t pleasant at all. He was sweating profusely and his features had turned into an ugly grimace a while ago. Dom had watched him toss his head to both sides more times than he could count by now, and his right hand kept twitching at his side as if he was trying to reach out to something. It pained him to watch Matt struggle, but there was nothing he could do. He adjusted the brunette’s thin blanket to make him more comfortable and held his hand loosely, then waited for him to wake up.

Sure enough, Matt’s eyes opened slowly and he stared up at the ceiling. A deep sigh escaped his lips and his face fell into the utter picture of sadness. At that point Dom could easily guess what the nightmare had been about, so he thumbed the smaller man’s wrist and whispered his name. Blue eyes snapped up at his face, but instead of gracing Dom with a beautiful smile Matt merely frowned. Then it was gone and the singer only looked exhausted and defeated.

“Hey,” Dom whispered and leant down to kiss Matt. “It was just a bad dream. I’m here.”

Matt nodded. The words the Dom in his mind had spoken were still fresh and repeated themselves in his head, but he tried to drown them out. Dom, his Dom, had gotten him out. He was out and he was free. And Dom was here with him and held his hand even while he had been unconscious. Knowing the blonde he’d probably been with him the whole time.

“Where are we?”

“At the hospital,” Dom explained and pointed at Matt’s shoulder. “You had to be taken in because of your shoulder. They stitched you up and gave you some heavy shit so you could sleep and recover.”

Matt looked down at his arm to see a bunch of bandages wrapped around his upper arm and shoulder. He couldn’t say that it hurt, but that was probably due to the meds that were still running through his system. However, he was unable to move his arm properly, and this part of his body felt too numb, so he figured that Dom was telling the truth.

He tried to remember what had happened but there were only scattered memories he could recollect. Dom standing in his room. Them running. Blood on his hands. Suzanne dying. Oh.

“She’s dead, right?” he asked with a shaky voice. He needed to hear it, needed to know if this memory was real.

Dom nodded slowly. “Inspector Whitman shot her, yes. She’s gone.”

Seeing Matt close his eyes again and swallow thickly made Dom’s insides turn once again. He still remembered vividly the broken form of his best friend and how he’d knelt over Suzanne’s bleeding body, begging her to stay alive. His own eyes closed when he felt his eyes prickle and he had to collect his thoughts and regain his composure. But he wanted - _needed_ \- to know.

“What happened there, Matt? In front of the house when… Why did you-”

The singer’s features immediately hardened and he replied curtly, “I don’t want to talk about it.” He had reopened his eyes but made sure not to look at Dom. Like a door, he was closing right in front of the blonde. If he shut himself off now, Dom wouldn’t know how to deal with it. So instead of continuing this conversation and risking an argument he didn’t want to have, he remembered something that had bothered him since he’d slept in that cell mere days ago.

“Today is the 27th August,” he said quietly. Matt looked up. “It’s nearly 4 in the afternoon. You’ve slept for 2 days, and I have missed you for 21.”

“I… I have? You have?” Now the singer looked confused, and yes, that was good. Because confusion was better than shutting himself off.

“Yes… it’s… well, 3 weeks doesn’t sound too long, does it? But those’ve been the longest and most torturous days of my life…”

For a second there Dom thought he’d said the wrong thing. Because seriously? They’ve been torturous for _him_? But Matt’s frown quickly went soft again.

“I know… I… I’m sorry.”

“No!” Dom replied a bit too loudly and was immediately horrified by Matt’s reaction. “No! Nothing of this is your fault!” He drew small, soothing circles on the back of the singer’s hand with his thumb.

Matt wanted to say something more to that but went back on his decision. Instead he sighed quietly and nodded his head in an uncertain motion. “Yeah… you’re probably right.”

There was still no fight in his friend and it made Dom’s heart sink. But then again, he had just woken from a deep, meds induced slumber. A nightmare ridden slumber at that. Hopefully it was a normal reaction. It wasn’t for Matt, but still. Under the current circumstances…

___

With Matt now being awake it was easier to pass the time in the hospital. The singer wasn’t allowed to leave just yet because the doctors wanted to monitor him for a while longer and also make sure he had time to adjust somewhat to life outside his prison again. Watching Matt’s confused but fascinated expression every time he looked outside to see either sun or stars made Dom believe that it wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.

On the third day, Chris and Tom decided to pay the 2 of them a visit. Dom had been in contact with them and updated them on Matt’s health constantly, but he couldn’t hold it against them that they wanted to see him for themselves. Especially Tom hadn’t had the chance to, yet, so he could only imagine that the man was dying to see his friend as soon as possible.

Dom was reading fanmail to Matt when they entered. First Chris, then Tom, as quietly as they could, but Matt heard them nonetheless. His head turned in the direction of the door and Dom could see a soft smile spreading on his lips as soon as he realised who was visiting.

“Hello.” His voice was quiet but warm, and Matt was immediately enveloped by Chris’ strong arms in way of greeting.

“Hello, mate,” the bassist said and let go of the small body. “Hope we’re not intruding.”

Dom shook his head at that and folded the letter in his hands. “Nah, never. We were just reading some stuff.”

Tom took a step forward then and looked at Matt as if he were a ghost before he launched himself at the singer and hugged him tightly. Dom couldn’t help but grin at that. Tom could be so dramatic sometimes. Then again, he could be excused, given the situation. Just this once.

The photographer whispered something into Matt’s ear that neither Dom nor Chris got, but Matt nodded which seemed to be the right answer. Tom grinned from one ear to the other once he let go of the singer and pulled a chair up to sit next to the bed. They chatted for only a few minutes, Matt not being the loudest for once, while Chris unpacked a couple of things he’d brought from home. A nurse entered at some point to check on Matt’s IV, but didn’t disturb their conversation, and only helped Chris briefly when some things needed to be put inside the bedside table. Once she was gone it was decided they’d take a trip to the cafeteria downstairs to get nourished. Matt didn’t particularly agree to it, but he didn’t have the heart to tell his friends no, either. So instead, he searched for Dom’s hand and didn’t let go until they were seated. Tom and Chris had already set off to buy something, and Dom was just about to leave as well when he asked Matt, “What do you want to eat?”

“I…”

“A tuna sandwich? You love tuna. Or something else?”

He wasn’t really hungry. And he didn’t want Dom to leave him. He didn’t want to sit here all by himself. He didn’t want to be alone again. Boy, did he feel pathetic...

“I’m not… I’m not hungry,” he whispered through gritted teeth.

“Just a coke then?” Dom asked. Matt shook his head.

Dom had caught up on his uneasiness then. He could easily put 2 and 2 together. “You know what?” he said and sat down next to the singer. “I’m not really hungry, either.”

They both knew it was a lie. Dom hadn’t eaten since last night when he’d basically run out of the room and sprinted to the cafeteria while a doctor had taken care of Matt. The drummer staying with him warmed his heart, but still, he felt guilty for putting this on his best friend.

“Sorry,” Matt sighed. “This is stupid and I-”

Dom kissed him then to shut him up and comfort him at the same time. “No, it’s okay. I’m here. It will pass.”

Just then Tom and Chris came back and the bassist shoved a cheese sandwich in Dom’s hands. When he looked up he could see the taller man wink at him. He also produced a small chocolate bar and handed it over to Matt who simply thanked him and unwrapped the sugary goodness with wonder.

They dug into their respective sandwiches and chocolate and ate mostly in silence until Tom piped up and chattered about random things just to entertain the group. Matt took the time to watch every one of his friends eating as if it was a whole new concept to him. In a way, after everything he’d gone through, it was. He’d never thought he’d see any of them again, and sitting here now felt so surreal and special that he felt like every single second was a miracle. The train of thought was weird, even for him, but it didn’t change the fact that it was true. Matt looked over to Dom who stared at his sandwich as if it held all the answers in the world.

The blonde was indeed deep in thought, but that had nothing to do with his cheese sandwich. He could still hear Tom’s voice explaining something about photography to them all, but his mind was in another place and another time. Just 3 weeks ago they had been sitting in a café together, just like now, eating and chatting together. But they had been waiting for Matt, while the singer had already been imprisoned and humiliated. Dom had to remind himself that he wasn’t back to the 4th August of 2013. This was the 30th August, and Matt was sitting next to him this time.

His free hand under the table searched for Matt’s knee and squeezed it carefully. He didn’t need to turn to know that Matt was staring at him, while Tom still prattled on about different lenses and their effectivity.

___

 

_London - 31.08.2013_

Dom was engrossed in this morning’s paper while Matt turned on the PSP Chris had brought him for entertainment purposes. Even before the main menu had loaded he knew that the game wouldn’t be able to hold his attention for long. Nothing was, though. Not these days. The only thing he could count on to distract him and make him feel better was Dom. Dom, the man currently hidden behind a hideously huge picture of the German Chancellor who’d apparently said something to another politician who was now quite unhappy. The usual business. He was just about to pull the paper down to get Dom’s attention when there was a knock at the door. They both turned around to see Whitman walk in quietly. He closed the door behind himself with as little sound as possible and walked up to the bed to greet them both. He shook hands with Dom before he extended his hand to Matt.

It seemed to take him a moment to recognise Whitman. He’d only ever seen him once, after all. But then he smiled, although a little tired, granted. Still he hesitated for a second as if the memory of the CI needed to be categorised first. Then he lifted his free hand and returned the shake. In the process the light sweater Chris had brought over for Matt to wear because he’d been unnaturally cold for the past day slipped a bit from his wrist to reveal the shadow of what had been a nasty bruise. Dom’s breath hitched and Matt’s eyes immediately shot back to the drummer. Then they followed Dom’s, widened for the fraction of a second and he pulled his hand away quickly to cover his wrist again. Whitman was oblivious to this, though, and sat down in the free chair on the other side of the bed. He cleared his throat and both men returned their attention to him.

“I’m sorry, I meant to come in earlier, but Mr Wolstenholme only just told me that you’re awake and I didn’t want to interrupt anything. But now… well, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” The CI crossed his legs and observed first the singer’s and then the drummer’s face.

Matt coughed and sat up a bit straighter. It felt awkward and uncomfortable to be lying around so vulnerably while someone he practically didn’t know was sitting with them. With Dom that was completely okay. He was Dom, after all, and had already seen him at his worst.

“Thanks,” the brunette nodded slowly. “I appreciate it. I’m… okay, I guess.”

“That’s a start,” Whitman smiled.

“So you are… the inspector in charge of… my… my case?” It was hard to speak of his hell as a case. To try and imagine what it had to have looked like from the outside. To see it as something this trivial.

“I am,” the CI confirmed.

“He kept us up to date on everything and helped us whenever he could,” Dom elaborated. “Took our statements and all. Without him we probably wouldn’t have gotten through this.”

Matt’s gaze had returned to the drummer and he gave the faintest nod of understanding at his explanation.

“He’s also the one who didn’t imprison me after my prison break.” Dom gave an odd, suffocated chuckle and swallowed.

“Mitigating circumstances, Dominic,” Whitman shook his head with a smile. “Better not talk about it again. We don’t want Thompson back in the picture, do we?”

“Thompson?” Matt asked in confusion.

“Yeah, he’s the inspector who wanted to put me away for apparently having killed Napolitano, her accomplice.” The drummer’s hand carefully closed around Matt’s again.

Oh… his kidnapper. It was absurd to even think Dom could’ve done anything like that. It had been brutal and horrifying and… Matt shook his head to get rid of the images that were still as fresh as ever. He didn’t want to think about anything, really. Sleep hadn’t been too bad in retrospect. Yes, there’d been nightmares… but at least they weren’t real whereas his memories were nothing but a reality he’d lived through.

“Thanks for saving us back there,” Matt croaked in order to get his head back into the here and now.

“It’s my job,” the CI winked at him. “And I figured you might need some filling in about what’s going on right now.”

“That’d actually be great,” Dom replied in Matt’s stead and leant forward in his chair. “We haven’t heard much about that lately.”

“Good,” Whitman nodded and then looked at the singer again. “Are you up to this, Mr Bellamy?”

Matt didn’t seem as certain about wanting to know as Dom did. The drummer picked up on his friends indecision right away and squeezed his hand in more reassurance. The brunette swallowed thickly and inclined his head a little.

“Might just as well get it over with, I guess.”

“Well then…” The CI knew this reaction, had actually encountered it quite some times before. But they both needed to know. “Rachel Harrison or, as you might know her, Suzanne MacConnel was a wealthy music collector. How wealthy she actually was we have only just found out. She inherited most of her money from an aunt who died about seven years ago. Her family still lives in Birmingham but she moved to London in 2008 in order to expand her collection. A plan she’d been quite successful with to say the least. From the calendar on her computer we gathered that she took the job as a waitress roughly around the same time you and your band went back to the studio to record your latest album. And as there are no coincidences, at least not when it comes to criminal investigations, we dug a little deeper. It seems she’d been planning this abduction for quite some time. About 2 years to be exact.”

“What?” Dom breathed as his eyes widened in disbelief. “2 years?”

“Yes,” Whitman replied with a grave look in Matt’s general direction. “Napolitano only came into the picture this spring. She hired him in order to get some information she couldn’t get on her own, and in the end to abduct you.”

“He loved her…” Matt whispered more to himself and slightly shook his head.

Again Whitman nodded. “We guessed that much from her calendar entries. It looks like she used his feelings to control him. Which doesn’t make him less guilty, but well…”

“Yeah,” the singer whispered and looked down at his IV’d arm. The colourless liquid slowly flowed into his veins to mix with his blood and he wished it to just knock him out. Thinking felt horrible.

“So far we couldn’t find any living relatives of Napolitano, but there’s a team already on the way to Birmingham to interview Harrison’s bereaved. Both bodies have undergone post-mortems, but with a case like this it’s mere routine as we don’t expect a third party to be involved. There’s still something we need, though.” The CI looked at Matt with a sad expression. “You need to give us your account of what has happened since your abduction. Considering the circumstances we will not summon you to an interrogation, but I still have to ask you for a written statement.”

“Oh.” Matt’s lips curved around the sound as this request sank in. He would have to relive everything. He knew about those written statements. They needed to be as detailed as possible.

“Isn’t it… I mean, couldn’t he do that _later_? It’s all still so fresh and-” Dom interjected but got interrupted by Whitman.

“That’s exactly why we need this statement as soon as possible. Because the memories are still fresh. Look, I know it’s a very difficult time for you right now, Mr Bellamy, and this won’t be easy. But your statement is of paramount importance to the case, even now.”

“No… No, I know. Of course I’m gonna do it.” Matt’s voice was quiet but clear, and it took Dom by surprise.

“Thank you,” the CI said with an honest smile and got up with a groan. “Ugh, I’m not getting any younger. Anyway, I need to get going. Still loads of paperwork to do. But I’ll check in on you again. And if you ever need anything, my door’s always open for you.”

“Thank you, really,” Dom smiled despite his discomfort at Whitman’s request and then showed the inspector out.

The brunette closed his eyes and willed sleep to take him over again when his friend returned to his side. Dom’s index finger drew small circles on his palm and involuntary goose bumps rose on his arms and neck.

“You know, there is still something I need to return to you. I actually thought about waiting until we’re home, but I just couldn’t,” the blonde said softly and Matt could feel the twitches in his hand while he was fumbling for something in his jeans pocket.

“Huh?” The singer’s eyes opened again in confusion as Dom pushed his free hand under Matt’s on the mattress and laid his other, closed one into his palm. Then he opened it and something delicate dropped onto Matt’s hand.

“What is it?” he asked before even looking at it.

“Just… just have a look,” Dom replied and could only just repress a good-natured eyeroll.

Curiously Matt lifted his hand to his eyes and studied the object. His eyes widened as he recognised his silver chain necklace. The one he’d thought broken and lost forever, and how fitting it was to think of the recovered object in these terms.

“Dom, I… you… how? Where?” He almost choked on a breath.

“I found it under a cupboard in your house when we were… um… anyway, I got it repaired and carried it with me ever since. The thought of returning it to you kept me going…” The blonde’s words trailed off and Matt studied his face for a moment.

Then, as if overcome by sudden agitation, the singer scrambled around his bed and gripped his IV’d wrist. Horror took hold of his features as he couldn’t find what he was looking for and Dom was immediately worried.

“What is it, Matt? s’everything alright?”

“No! Dom, it’s gone! Your necklace, it’s gone!”

“Oh.” Suddenly Dom understood and his features softened again. “Look in the nightstand. Chris brought your mobile and wallet over and I saw the nurse put it in there.”

Without another word the singer did as he was told and to his great relief _did_ find the precious little necklace in there.

He closed his hand around it and held it for a second to feel its reassuring presence. Just like it had reassured him back there… in his prison. “Dom… I hate it that she stole this from you, but…”

“But?” Dom narrowed his eyes and had to prick his ears in order to hear his friend’s subdued voice.

“But… it was good to have it. Like… like I had a part of you with me down there. I didn’t feel so alone.” He couldn’t talk about it. Not yet. The memories where still too fresh, but Dom deserved to know. He deserved to know that it was the thought of him that had kept him fighting.

The drummer nodded in understanding and smiled. It was obvious that he wouldn’t push him, wouldn’t press for details and instead give him the time he needed. Matt sighed and gave him a grateful look as he extended his hand and put the necklace into Dom’s with slightly cool fingers. The blonde closed his fingers around Matt’s, the necklace between their palms, lowered his head and kissed his knuckles.

“It’s alright. You’re not alone now. I promise.”

Matt didn’t react physically, but as Dom locked their eyes he knew that Matt believed him.

___

_London - 02.09.2013_

“Dom? Dom, are you up?”

The blonde groaned in fake annoyance as Matt prodded him in the ribs to wake him. Of course, technically speaking the singer was alright and there was really no need to keep sleeping in the chair next to his bed. But Dom just couldn’t leave him in his room, especially at night. While his back was yearning for his soft mattress and his neck wanted nothing more than a good night’s rest on one of his fluffy pillows, his heart and mind were chained to the sterile hospital room for now.

“Kinda,” he mumbled in response and straightened up slowly. “Why are you, though?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” the brunette waved him off nonchalantly. “Here.”

The drummer looked at the envelope Matt was holding out to him. “What’s that?”

“My statement. You have to give it to Whitman for me.” By now Matt was practically shoving the thing in Dom’s face as if he wanted to get rid of it as quickly as possible.

He took it and looked up at Matt, pensive. “Your statement? But when did you write it?”

“Last night,” the singer shrugged and seemed relieved to be shut of the thing.

Dom was confused but, in a way, just as relieved. He’d seen Matt struggle over an empty sheet of paper for most of yesterday and the day before, and it’d been painfully obvious why. The singer hadn’t been able to relive his memories, hadn’t wanted to go through all of it again, even if it was just in his head. It’d been so hard not to give in and just call Whitman to tell him Matt couldn’t do it yet. His urge to protect his friend from any harm whatsoever was still growing by the minute, and those thoughts definitely counted as harm. But maybe this could also be seen as some sort of therapeutic measure. A first step in the right direction.

He fingered the paper thoughtfully and eventually slipped the envelope in the inside pocket of his leather jacket that was hung over the back of his chair. Evidently Matt didn’t want him to read his statement. He wasn’t sure if it was to protect Dom or himself, though. Maybe a bit of both? The story on those pages was definitely hurtful and would probably drive him insane with fury. Did Matt want to spare him that? But it was also something Dom needed to understand. How else was he supposed to understand _Matt_ , after all? Was it too private? Too humiliating? Dom didn’t even know if he wanted to read it himself.

With a sigh the drummer laid his hand on Matt’s and gave him a weak smile. “I’m glad you managed to get it over with. I’m gonna get it to Whitman asap.” He leant forward and pressed a small kiss to the brunette’s temple who shuddered under the tender gesture.

“Yeah… thanks,” Matt replied and tried to return the smile but failed miserably.

“You’re gonna be okay,” the blonde whispered as he stroke through his friend’s almost shaggy strands.

The singer could do nothing but nod at the positive attitude. Maybe he really would be okay. After all, Dom was with him. Hadn’t that always helped?

 


	14. Chapter 14

_London - 03.09.2013_

“Are you really okay with this?”

“Matt, come on. You know I am. Especially now.”

Dom pushed open the door to his house and let Matt in. He had invited the singer to stay for as long as he wanted. Truth be told, Dom wouldn’t have let Matt go back to his own house even if he had wanted to. He was too afraid to let him out of his sight. At least for now. It would take both musicians a lot of time to adjust to normal life again. The singer didn’t voice it, but it was obvious how grateful he was for his friend’s hospitality. Of course he was scared to go back to his own house. Things had happened there… Things he didn’t want to think about again. There had not been a lot of talking about the new living arrangements. It was a given, natural really. Matt had his own room at Dom’s house anyway and a few of his things were already there.

“When’s Chris coming over?” the brunette asked tentatively.

Dom checked his watch and replied, “Should be here any minute.”

The bassist was eager to help settle Matt in, but there was not too much to do, so he had offered to at least go over to Matt’s house and fetch some clothes and toiletries. The singer had written him a short list of stuff he might need and Chris had taken on the task without hesitation. Kelly had even suggested for the other 2 to move in with the Wolstenholme family for the time being, but Matt had been hesitant about it and Dom had immediately known that it would’ve been too much for his friend. Too many people at once. So he had gratefully declined for the both of them. The brunette had almost hugged him afterwards. Almost.

“Make yourself at home,” the blonde said with a smile and one hand on the small of his friend’s back as they climbed the stairs to the first floor.

Matt tried to hide his frown and therefore looked anywhere but at his friend. But Dom noticed anyway. He took it in stride, though, because it was anything but unusual that Matt was still uncomfortable. So he didn’t take his hand away.

“You hungry? I could cook us something or order pizza. Whatever you want. My treat. Maybe Chris wants to join, too,” he offered and gave Matt an unwavering smile.

“Yeah… no, thanks. I think I’m just… gonna go to bed,” the singer mumbled and reached out for the door handle of his bedroom.

“Really? But it’s only afternoon,” Dom replied, uncertain.

“Yes… I’m sorry, but… I’m really tired.”

“Okay. We could still eat tonight. You need to get some food into your system. The doctor told me to have an eye on that.”

Matt just nodded and pressed the handle down. The sleeve of his shirt rode up a bit and revealed a dark bruise on his wrist. Dom had already noticed at the hospital but had decided not to mention it then. But now it made his stomach turn to knots. The brunette felt Dom’s staring immediately and pushed the fabric down awkwardly.

“Does that… Does it still hurt?” the drummer asked softly.

“No.” The reply was curt and left no room for questions. Although Dom still had a lot of those.

Apart from the more visible cuts and more or less fresh scars, there had to be a lot more bruises and injuries on Matt’s body. Dom could still remember those pictures quite vividly and it made him angry beyond reason. Yes, Suzanne and her lackey were dead. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t still want to make them suffer. It was obvious that Matt was still in pain sometimes because he moved with special care these days. The drummer wished there was something, anything really, he could do to make it better. But the singer didn’t ask, so what should he do?

“I guess I’m just gonna… gonna sleep now.” Matt had stopped in the doorway and gave Dom an insecure look.

“Yeah.” The blonde scratched his neck and smiled. Then he just took a step closer and hugged him. He still couldn’t quite believe that he had him back. Matt was finally here again. _His_ Matt. He still smelled a bit of antiseptics and the hospital soap. Dom was very mindful not to hurt his friend and so he kept the hug as light as possible. “God, I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too,” the brunette replied in a dampened voice, but Dom didn’t fail to notice the lack of hug returning.

The blonde loosened his hold on Matt to lean back a bit and look at him properly. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t worry.” That wasn’t an answer at all. Immediately Dom started to worry again.

“Matt, I-” he started, but wasn’t able to finish his sentence.

“Really, don’t worry,” Matt cut him short. “I’m… I’m good.”

But he didn’t look it. Dom knew better than to take his word at face value. But if Matt didn’t want to talk, what was he supposed to do? He couldn’t force him, could he?

“Okay,” he sighed almost defeatedly. “Sleep then. I’m gonna be here whenever you wake up. Just come down when you feel like it. I’ll make us dinner then.”

“Maybe another time?”

Dom nodded. “Of course. Whenever and whatever you want.”

“Pasta?”, Matt asked quietly.

“Your favourite, got it.”

The singer nodded and gave him a little smile before he turned around and stepped into the room. “Thanks, Dom. Really.” He closed the bedroom door carefully.

That only pacified the drummer temporarily. Actually he wanted to open the door again and hug Matt tight and tell him that everything would be okay again. That he could help if Matt only let him. But he didn’t want to rush him or scare him off. Sighing, he walked back down the stairs and shoved his hands in his pockets. Just as he was about to enter the living room to relax for a bit, the doorbell rang and he turned around again. Oh yes, Chris. He’d almost forgotten over his worries.

“Coming,” he shouted and then thought better of it. Matt was upstairs, trying to sleep. Shouting wasn’t very productive in that department.

So he hurried over to the door and opened it. Chris smiled brightly at him and engaged him in a short hug. There were two large suitcases to his left and right. He’d apparently taken his job really seriously.

“Hey, how’re you mate?” the taller man asked as he carried Matt’s stuff inside and Dom closed the door again.

“Good. I’m good,” he replied as he followed Chris to the living room.

“And how’s Matt?”

“Well…” He stopped in the doorway and rubbed at his face.

“Dom?” Chris turned around with a questioning look on his face after he’d placed the suitcases next to the couch.

“I’m not sure, actually. He’s very quiet and went straight to bed after we got home. Like, three minutes ago,” the drummer sighed.

“Oh,” Chris breathed and scratched his head. “I guess… it’s normal, isn’t it? I mean, normal considering the circumstances. Probably just needs some more rest in a proper bed. And coming to terms with what happened is surely going to take him some time.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right. I just… I hope he’ll let me… us help with that. I don’t think he’ll manage on his own. You know how he tends to shut himself off when he’s troubled.” Dom walked over to the couch and sank down on it.

“And troubled he definitely is,” the bassist agreed and sat down in the armchair opposite Dom. “But don’t worry. Just give him some time. He’s complicated, you know that. He’ll reach out when he’s ready.”

“I hope so… After everything he’s been through… I just want to be there for him, y’know?” The blonde pulled his legs up to put his feet on the table and then leant back.

“Of course I know. And you already are, Dom. I know how daft that sounds, but… really, give him time and let him come to you. I promise you, he will. I mean… he’s back, after all!” Chris tried to give him an encouraging smile to cheer him up, but Dom didn’t really feel like it.

Yes, Chris was right. Matt _was_ back. But to which extent? Was his heart back? His mind? Completely exhausted he closed his eyes for a second. Maybe the singer really just needed some time to himself. Although he was very reluctant to give him that time because he’d missed him unbelievably, he knew that it was the best he could do at the moment. _No pushing, no rushing, no forcing_ , he told himself. _Just be there when he needs you._

“Thanks Chris,” he said out of the blue, but the bassist understood.

“No problem, mate. Any time,” Chris replied with a smile followed by a quiet sigh.

This didn’t promise to be an exactly easy time. But fuck it, they’d seen worse. Much worse. Matt could’ve been dead, after all. No, they’d managed before and they would manage now. Because they were back together. That was all that counted.

Later that night Dom was getting ready for bed when he heard a quiet yelp coming from Matt’s bedroom. Quickly he dropped his unused toothbrush into the sink and ran over to the slightly opened door opposite of his own bedroom. Well, this was new. The singer never left his door open when he went to bed. Once he’d said that he couldn’t sleep when there was even the possibility of someone understanding an open door as an invitation. While this made perfect sense in hotel rooms (which they usually locked anyway), Dom didn’t quite see the point in doing it when you were at home. Anyone who’d get into your house uninvited would surely not be put off by something as simple as a closed door.

“Matt?” he asked softly as he knocked on the doorframe.

Dim light was falling through the gap onto the wooden floor of the hallway and he could see Matt’s shadow on the light carpet inside.

“Hey, are you alright?” he spoke up again, louder this time, and stepped inside.

“What?” Matt squeaked in surprise. He’d been sitting on the bed with his back to the door and looking out of the window. Now he’d jumped up like a frightened animal and was standing on the other side of the bed, having effectively brought the huge piece of furniture between himself and any potential danger in mere seconds.

“Hey, hey… It’s okay, just me. I heard a sound from your room and wanted to make sure you’re alright,” Dom tried to calm him.

“Yeah, just…” The singer was still breathing heavily and even in the soft light Dom could see the thin sheen of sweat on his friend’s pale forehead. “Nightmare, s’all.”

“Okay,” Dom replied hesitantly. “You sure, though? You’re never leaving your door open. Is there maybe more to this?”

All of a sudden the remaining signs of surprise vanished from Matt’s face and were replaced by a slight frown. His next words sounded more careful and guarded, much less subdued. “Well… I find it more difficult to sleep in a closed room. I guess the reason is more or less obvious…”

Dom sighed deeply and tried to catch the singer’s evasive eyes again. “Yes, I understand. And I’m sorry I’ve startled you. I should have been more considerate.”

“No, Dom. No… it’s okay. I’m just… feeling weird. It’ll pass, I’m sure. I’m sorry.” Now the brunette looked smaller than ever with his shoulders sagging and his eyes locked on the ground. The abrupt changes in his behaviour worried the drummer more than he cared to admit and a heavy weight seemed to settle in his stomach once more. A weight he’d thought gone after Matt had returned to them.

“So we’re both sorry.” He tried to smile in spite of everything. “Let’s move on from here then, shall we?”

“Yeah,” Matt replied with an uncertain smile of his own.

Oh, how Dom wished they would really move on so everything could go back to normal. Because normal had never quite seemed to be so worth striving for.

___

 

_08.09.2013_

“Matt, you alright?”

Dom shot him a glance and frowned a little. They’d agreed to have a quiet evening with pizza and a movie. Nothing too exciting. The singer was seated across from him on the couch and instead of having his eyes on the screen, he was eyeing his watch. His nimble fingers fumbled around with the tiny button. Then, without saying anything, he grabbed for the remote and checked the time on the telly.

“Matt?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah.”

With a sigh Dom leant back again and kept watching Matt from the corner of his eyes.

“Dom, what time is it?” Surprised, the drummer looked over and caught Matt’s unsure stare.

“Uhm…” Quickly he checked his own watch and replied, “9.34. Why? Didn’t you just check on the TV?”

“Yeah… But it could’ve been wrong.” The brunette tapped his fingertip on the glass of his watch and again turned the small button.

“Right.”

Silence followed and Dom released a little breath. He’d observed his friend checking his watch time and time again since he was back. He had a good idea about the reason and it wasn’t like he couldn’t just speak to him, but something was holding him back. Matt had shut off before when he’d tried to talk to him about such things, so he avoided it as much as possible. Of course not talking about substantial issues didn’t sit right with him. Not at all, mind you. But what was he supposed to do? Matt’s reactions didn’t leave much room for action. And if there was anything Dom didn’t want, then it was Matt shutting himself off even further.

“Does the clock in the kitchen keep the right time?” The singer had finally released his wrist and folded his hands on his knees.

“Well, I don’t know… I guess.” Dom shrugged and helplessly looked after Matt as he got up and made his way to the kitchen. “Matt, are you sure you’re okay?”

No reply. The blonde closed his eyes and rubbed his face with the heels of his hands. This was a nightmare in its own right. Matt was still suffering badly from his lack of time reference during his… his confinement. It was completely understandable. But why he wouldn’t talk about it… he still didn’t know. He’d waited so long for Matt to come to him for help, had given him so much time. And yet…

“Matt, there are some clocks upstairs. If you want we could go check them together.”

Yes, Dom had just decided to endorse his friend. Because, hey, if Matt didn’t want any direct help, he could still at least have his back when it came to his insecurities, right? Maybe if Matt realised that Dom was there for him, always, then he’d finally open up to him again. So the drummer jumped up and followed his friend to the kitchen.

“Good idea,” the brunette mumbled while he compared the kitchen clock’s time with the time of his watch. “Uhm… this one says it’s 9.56… That can’t be right…”

“No, it most definitely can’t,” Dom nodded his agreement.

He went up to the table, took one of the chairs and put it down under the clock so as to climb up and correct it. His own watch was always perfectly on time because on a job like his there was almost nothing as important as that. But the clocks at his house… well, he was a bit negligent with them. At home you were supposed to relax anyway. When he looked down at Matt, the singer actually smiled the tiniest bit. Dom marked it up as a huge success. Because his inner Notebook of Successes in the Matt department was pretty empty these days and anything that could make his friend smile was noteworthy.

“So, you want to go up together and see if those clocks have been fucking around with me all the time, too?” Dom asked with a smile of his own.

“Yeah… let’s do that,” Matt replied with a nod, but the smile had vanished.

Good thing Dom had mentally noted it down before, otherwise he probably wouldn’t believe in its short but precious existence. He savoured it now and thought of more ways to at least provoke a smile. It felt like he was facing the Mount Everest. With the small difference that Matt could be far more obstinate than any mountain.

___

 

_22.09.2013_

It was a late Wednesday afternoon, about a month after Matt's return, when Dom entered his house after one exhausting shopping trip. He'd bought Matt some new trousers and shirts because he thought that it was time for something new in the singer's life. It was only a small change but maybe it would help his friend to move on.

 _Small steps_ , the drummer reminded himself as he shut the door with his foot.

"Honey, I'm home!" he shouted through the house with a slight chuckle to his words. After everything that had happened, it was a bit surprising, even to himself, how he was actually able to joke around. Especially considering the current Bellamy-got-his-lips-sealed situation.

There was no reply, though, and the ground floor seemed eerily quiet. Before, a house containing Matt could have hardly been mistaken for an empty house. But these days the singer moved without making any noise, almost ghostlike. If he moved at all, that is. Sometimes Dom wouldn't see him for half a day. And then he would only emerge from his hiding places either to go to the loo or to satisfy his stomach. They'd come to the point where there was almost no social interaction anymore and secretly it was driving Dom nuts. Nevertheless, the blonde still stuck to his resolve to leave the singer as much room as was physically possible when you were living together.  

_He'll reach out when he's ready._

Dom had come to repeat Chris' words like a mantra in order not to forget about it. Because lately he was really getting a bit impatient. But he was dead set not to let it show. That wouldn't be helpful at all, he was sure of it.

"Matt? You there?"

Seriously, though... How hard could it be to at least acknowledge his presence? With a sigh Dom went up to Matt's room, very careful to make himself heard before he entered it. He didn't want to surprise his friend, after all. These days surprises didn't go down too well with the singer. It seemed like he was always cautious, always ready to leg it like some scared animal.

His tries were in vain, though, as the singer wasn't there. With a frown the drummer put down the two shopping bags and left the room without a second glance. Maybe he was in the garden again. Quickly Dom went into his own bedroom to look out of the window there. It had a great view over the garden and if Matt was there, he would definitely be able to see him.

He put his hands down on the window-sill and started scanning the garden for his oldest friend. Surely enough, it only took him a few seconds to find the tiny man. He was sitting in the grass with his back resting against an apple tree. As said tree stood in the far right corner of the garden, he wouldn't have been able to locate Matt from any of the ground floor windows. There were a few bushes blocking the view, but from up here Dom could see him perfectly.

It didn't look like the brunette was actually doing anything. There were no books or papers, no iPod, no nothing. He was just sitting there, appearing immobile. His eyes were wide open, fixed on something that remained invisible to Dom. It was very likely that he was just staring, without really seeing. That was a talent Matt had brought to perfection over the years. But now it was just creepy. The drummer sighed quietly and turned his back to the window.

There had to be something he could do without coming on too strong, without scaring him off. Because he couldn't stand the way they were acting towards each other. He couldn't stand walking on eggshells. They'd known each other for almost all their lives and now it felt like he wasn't even able to talk to his friend anymore. It wasn't just the fact that he craved for their romantic encounters. No, he wanted his _friend_ back. More than anything.

Maybe, he thought, Matt wanted the same thing but didn't know how to act on it? Maybe he just needed a gentle push in the right direction?

With that in mind, the drummer hurried down the stairs again and went to the kitchen. He pulled a bottle of red out of the shelf, picked up two glasses, and quickly made his way to the garden. It only took him a few seconds until he'd reached the small front of bushes, the only remaining physical barrier between them now. Physical wasn't their problem, though...

Taking in a deep, calming breath he walked around the bushes and had his smile in place before Matt noticed him.

"Hi there," he greeted the brunette and sat down beside him without much ado.

"Erm... hi," Matt replied, only slightly dumbfounded, and looked at the blonde.

"Want some?" Dom asked and put the bottle down before waving the two glasses around. "I could definitely use a glass or two."

"I... Dom, I don't..." the singer stuttered and clutched his hands in his lap. He seemed nervous. Why the hell did he seem so nervous?

"You don't drink anymore?" he chuckled light-heartedly and poured them two glasses of the dark-red, rich wine. Without waiting for any reaction, he handed Matt a glass and took a swig from his own, partly to calm his nerves and partly in hope his friend would do the same. But he didn't.

"No, I... I mean, yeah. I do. But not right now." Matt appeared to be shrinking further into the thick trunk of the apple tree, almost as if he wanted to melt into it.

"Why though?" the drummer asked and casually caught a stray drop of wine with his tongue off his lips.

"I don't feel like it, that's why," came the curt reply and suddenly Matt didn't seem too nervous anymore. No, it was more like he was shutting himself off again. His arms were crossed over his chest and there was a small pout threatening to take over his expression.

With a sigh and his heart pumping like mad he reached for the singer's knee and squeezed it comfortingly. "You don't have to. You know I wouldn't force you. I just thought you'd maybe like to... well, have a drink with me, s'all," he said while rubbing small circles through his friend's jeans and into his skin.

"Please Dom..." All of a sudden Matt's voice had become all small and quiet and he actually shrank away from Dom's hand. Now he couldn't even look at the blonde anymore. "Please, just... just leave me alone, yeah? I... I need to think and..."

That stung. It seemed like all he ever wanted nowadays was for Dom to leave him alone. But there was nothing he could do, was there?

"Nah, it's okay," the drummer murmured in defeat. "I guess, I see where you're coming from. You need space, I get it. But you know I'm here whenever you need me, yes?"

"Yeah," Matt nodded slightly and fixed his eyes on the ground beneath his feet.

With fear and resignation gnawing painfully on his insides, the drummer pushed himself to his feet again. Before straightening up, though, he leant forward a bit, put his right hand to the back of Matt's head and kissed his hair. Meanwhile, Matt's body had gone completely rigid and, as Dom eventually got up, he looked at the drummer with wide eyes.

"I mean it. I'm here for you. Whenever you feel like... you know... talking. About anything."

"Okay," Matt whispered, still completely caught off guard.

Dom nodded and turned back to the house. Then he left the singer... _his_ singer alone again. If solitude was what he wanted, solitude he should have. Still, his insides were churning wildly with every step he took away from Matt like he couldn't get back to him, like every yard between them was something final and irreversible. Matt hadn't chastised him after that kiss, though. Maybe... maybe there was still something he could do. More drastic measures. Something to show him that he was still wanted in the here and now and that Dom still needed him.

___

 

_25.09.2013_

“You could be my luck. Even if the sky is falling down, I know that we'll be safe and sound.”

The drummer sang along to the single charts that were currently being played on the radio while swirling through the kitchen like a minor hurricane. Sparked with a new idea, his mood had lifted remarkably. Just this morning he’d remembered Matt’s wish for a pasta dinner. That had been the day he’d gotten released from the hospital but with everything that _hadn’t_ happened since then, Dom had completely forgotten about it. Since Matt had always been a devotee of everything culinary, maybe this was the way to go. A special, albeit late, celebration dinner. And just maybe a slightly different approach to his everlasting silence was just what they both needed.

Said silence even extended to music now. Dom hadn’t expected Matt to go back to playing. No, that wasn’t it at all. But the singer wasn’t even willing to _listen_ to music anymore. One time, about two weeks ago, Dom had tried to lure Matt out of his hiding place in the garden by playing his favourite Rachmaninov piano concert. You wouldn’t even believe how badly that one had backfired. The singer had actually been mad at Dom, spitting spiteful words at him and running off like some maniac. Even the sheer sight of instruments seemed to instill a sense of panic and fear in Matt. Once Dom had seen him eyeing one of the guitars Chris had brought over (just in case…) like it was about to attack him any second. His attitude towards music had changed so much that the drummer had caught himself fearing for the band’s future once or twice.

While the spaghetti were already cooking in a large pan of salted water, he tossed some garlic and chilli into the heated olive oil. The smell instantly took over the kitchen and it was only then that Dom realised that he was pretty hungry himself. All the better, he thought and stirred the spaghetti. If the smell was already this good down here, it would only take a few more minutes until it reached Matt’s room. And if there was one thing he knew about Matt, it was that he could never block out a good aroma.

“I could fill your cup. You know my river won't evaporate, this world we still appreciate,” he sang on, a bit out of tune but in high spirits. He’d already set the table and now added prawns, white wine and some of his self-made tomato purée to the garlic. Then he hurried to the living room and put a small, not too obvious candle in the middle of the table. The drummer had come to the conclusion that music wouldn’t be too good an idea for tonight. Not after Matt’s reaction to the last time he’d tried to make him listen to some. Still, Dom didn’t feel quite ready to let it go just yet. There were other ways to create a sort of romantic atmosphere. Good food, wine, and candle light were classics and they’d always worked before. Why not now? Well, of course the situation was eons more difficult now, but they were still Matt and Dom, right? Somewhere deep down they had to be.

Quickly he went back to the kitchen, just in time so the pasta wouldn’t be overcooked. He tossed it with the sauce, squeezed in some lemon juice for extra flavour, and added half of the rocket he’d chopped before.

“Hey brother, there’s an endless road to re-discover. Hey sister, know the water's sweet but blood is thicker. Oh, if the sky comes falling down for you, there’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do.” The song had changed, but Dom was still singing. Usually Matt would be right there to make fun of him and he would shrug it off with an half-earnest smile, happy to have at least entertained his little shit of a friend a bit.

“What’s up with the singing and the smell, I… Oh. You really _are_ cooking.”

Abruptly Dom shot around to find Matt standing awkwardly in the doorway. Yes! There it was! The tiniest hint of a smile seemed to be tugging on the corner of Matt’s lips and if that wasn’t an improvement, then nothing was.

“Why are you so surprised?” he replied in mock offense, but reduced his singing to quiet humming.

“I’m not, it’s just…” Matt leant forward a bit to get a better look at the food Dom had been about to serve. “Are those prawns?”

“They are indeed,” the drummer replied with an inner yell of triumph.

“Looks delicious.” Matt took a careful step into the kitchen and lifted his nose to take in some more of the smell. “But what’s the occasion?”

Wow, Dom couldn’t even remember the last time a conversation between them had gone so smoothly. And wasn’t that a sad observation?

“Well, I thought we could both use some nice food for once. No take away or leftovers. What do you think?”

“It really is nice…” The singer mused, but seemed to hesitate then. To Dom it looked like he had just started yet another inner fight with himself. So it took him a few moments until he was able to finish his sentence. “I think… I think we should eat. My stomach’s on a rampage already.”

“Great!” Dom said a bit overenthusiastically and went back to finishing the dishes. “Why don’t you take the wine to the living room? I’ll be there in a tick.”

“Okay…” And then Matt vanished into said room.

With a spring to his step, Dom followed Matt with the pasta and put it down on the table. Then he focused on the singer again who was now standing behind his chair, eyeing Dom’s handiwork almost suspiciously. Especially the single, white candle seemed to have caught his attention. The drummer tried to ignore how his heart was sinking. Had he overdone it? Was this already too much? But Matt had been so positive back in the kitchen! No, this was good. It was good for the both of them. They needed this.

“Sit,” Dom said gently so as not to make it sound like an order and then sat down himself.

Wordlessly Matt sank down on the chair on the opposite side of the table. For a few seconds he kept twitching and scooted back and forth until he found a comfortable position for his legs. _He’s acting like he’s never sat on a chair before_ , Dom caught himself thinking.

Quickly he pulled himself together so as not to make Matt uncomfortable with his silent staring. Instead he smiled at the brunette and then simply dug in. As if on cue, Matt did the same and soon enough they were enveloped by the pleasant sound of two people eating with relish. Glasses clinking, forks rolling up pasta, passionate chewing… It was all there and for the first time in ages they both seemed to be moderately relaxed in each other’s presence. Until Dom opened his mouth, that is.

“How are you today? It feels like we haven’t talked properly in forever.”

“Uhm… I’m fine…” Immediately Matt tensed up and let his fork sink back to the plate.

“Would you like to watch some telly after dinner? There’s this great new show on world history. Not the boring stuff you can’t follow for more than a few minutes. It’s actually quite fun and I think today’s episode is about Tibet. Should be interesting, don’t you think?” Hell, when exactly had _he_ become the rambler out of the two?

“I don’t know, Dom…” Matt rubbed the back of his neck in discomfort and stole a longing glance towards the hallway. “I don’t feel like… uhm... “

“Ah, no need to panic. S’all good. I just thought it’d be nice to hang out together. You know, since you’re living here and all… And… because… I mean…” He reached out for the singer’s hand that was resting at the edge of the table, thumbing the back of it. “It’s been a while since we’ve spent some time together and I… dunno…”

That was exactly the moment Dom didn’t know what to say anymore. Matt didn’t say anything and didn’t react. He only stared at the blonde with wide eyes. Now or never, he thought and walked around the table, over to Matt. He leant down and gingerly pressed his lips to Matt’s, leaving himself no time to overthink his actions. He could feel him tense up immediately, and when the brunette pushed him away he knew his advances weren’t welcomed.

“What the fuck, Matt?” Dom couldn’t stop himself from saying, shock, embarrassment and the pain of rejection battling for the upper hand in his head.

“Stop it! I… no… I can’t… Dom, I’m… I can’t do this,” the completely shaken singer spat bitterly at him and, without so much as a second glance, literally made a run for it.

Dom didn’t even have enough time to process what was going on when Matt’s door was pulled shut with a loud bang. Now he was just standing there, confused, disappointed and humiliated. His eyes were still on the space his friend’s body had occupied only seconds earlier.

“What the hell just happened?” he whispered to himself and buried his face in his hands.

Matt couldn’t do this? Did he mean their current situation? Them being friends? Or… them being romantically involved? The latter would at least explain the lack of a reply to his love confession and, considering what’d just happened, was probably the most obvious choice. But… he’d always thought that… that Matt felt the same about him. Or so he’d hoped. Could he really have been so wrong about him all the time? Had Matt just tried to humour him? To keep him at it until someone ‘better’ came along? No, that was bullshit… But… really… was it? Maybe Matt felt indebted to him since he’d been there for him ever since his return? Did he feel like he _owed_ Dom? Was that the reason why he’d become so bitter? This was ridiculous! Why wasn’t everything fine like it was supposed to be? Matt had practically returned from the almost dead, they’d suffered apart and now together, so everything could go back to normal afterwards. Better than normal. He’d wished for so much more although he knew the return of a living Matt should have been enough. But now he felt betrayed, if he was completely honest with himself. Here! This! It should be a happy ending! Yes, exactly like Hollywood propagated. After the big trial there was always a happy ending! Why not for them? He didn’t understand.

In sudden exhaustion and overdue resignation Dom let himself fall onto the chair Matt had occupied moments ago and his forehead hit the tabletop forcefully when a dry sob escaped his lips. This was so unfair. They’d fought so hard to be together again and now Matt didn’t want to. He’d offered his innermost feelings on a silver tablet for his best friend to see. And now he’d stomped them into the ground.

“Thanks, Matt. Very much,” he breathed onto the polished wood of the table. “I still love you, though…”

___

 

_02.10.2013_

“Good evening, gents!”

Chris entered Dom’s place, carrying a sixpack of beer for his friends and another pack of Red Bull for himself. Dom grinned at him broadly, glad for the distraction from his grey daily routine.

The bassist situated himself on the sofa while Dom knocked at Matt’s door to let him know they had a visitor.

“Sorry, busy at the moment,” was the curt and quiet reply.

“Are you, now?” Dom asked. “Come on. Knock down a couple of drinks with us.”

“Maybe later, okay?”

The blonde sighed. “Whatever.”

Matt was doing it again, and now he was doing it with Chris around as well. Dom didn’t know if it was a consolation to know that it wasn’t only him Matt was treating like this, or if it made the whole matter worse. Either way, he needed that sixpack, and if he had to empty the bottles alone, then he would.

He sat down heavily next to Chris, already opening the first can, when the bassist asked, “Is everything alright?”

“Fine. Just fine.”

Chris didn’t seem convinced, but didn’t push it further, so they turned to their respective drinks and chatted about this and that.

At some point Matt joined them quietly, only raising his hand in a greeting before he slumped down in the armchair opposite of them. He didn’t contribute to the conversation, but watched them with hawkeyes, as if he was expecting them to jump at him any second.

“So, how have you been doing?” Chris finally asked and turned his eyes to Matt.

The singer in question only shrugged in reply and Dom frowned. “You can give a proper answer, you know.”

“Am doing okay, thanks.”

“Glad to hear, mate. Glad to hear.” Chris grinned and raised his Red Bull.

Conversation didn’t change much after that, with Chris and Dom still doing the main part, while Matt added a couple of comments to whatever topics they were on. Dom wasn’t exactly interested in what Matt had to say nowadays, so he focused his attention on Chris who updated them on the latest in his family life. It made Dom incredibly happy to hear about the peace and joy the bassist was experiencing again after all the hardships, but at the same time it made him very bitter and jealous because he couldn’t have that. He wanted his own happy end.

“So what about you guys? Any future plans?”

“Huh?”

Chris leaned back and looked between the 2 of them. “I figured we could get back into the studio at some point. Or, you know, just get out for a bit, take a holiday together. Don’t care.”

Dom looked over to Matt who’d busied himself with the label of his bottle. He tried hard to appear as if he hadn’t heard Chris, but the blonde knew it was a ruse. It made him incredibly angry, knowing that Matt just couldn’t be bothered to answer a simple question. Especially one coming from Chris, who’d been nothing but nice and supportive.

The bassist looked between them, unsure if he’d said anything wrong when Matt got up and smiled at them. “Sorry about bolting, but I’m not feeling well at the moment.”

“Are you fucking serious, Matt?” Dom growled.

“If it’s something I said-”

“No, no. I’ll just be going back to my room. Was nice talking to you, mate.”

He left in a hurry then, and Dom downed his beer.

“Is he alright?” Chris asked him and the blonde shook his head.

“Fuck if I know. Fuck if I care. It’s the same bullshit over and over again.”

“Dom, what are you even talking about?” The bassist looked a little lost in the face of Dom’s harsh words.

“Everything! Him!” He gestured towards the door Matt had just vanished through. “In case you haven’t noticed, he isn’t quite himself lately. And that’s nicely put.”

“Yeah well, what did you expect?” Chris frowned at his friend and straightened up a bit.

“I don’t know… Not for him to behave like a fucking dick, at least. He’s not talking, he’s not willing to do anything outside this house, he’s basically doing nothing. At least not anything involving _me_. Fuck knows what he’s doing in his bedroom all day. Could be building a bomb or whatever. Most likely he’s just eking out his oh so miserable existence. Shit Chris, he’s practically returned from the dead! Why’s he not high on endorphins? Oh and by the way, I told him that I love him. No reaction whatsoever.”

“Dom…” Chris gave him a pained look and inclined his head. “I know… I know how hard this has to be on you. But don’t you see how much he’s still suffering? Getting back to your everyday life after such an unspeakable thing… it has to be the most difficult undertaking ever.”

“Yeah, but how is he supposed to get better? He’s not making the slightest effort! And what about you and me? Of course he suffered the most, but we went through hell as well.”

“Have you 2 maybe considered a therapy? I know he wouldn’t like it very much, but if it’s as bad as you say… Maybe it’d be for the best.” Chris bit his lip in thought and his features showed all his concern for his two friends.

“No, we haven’t. I have. But he’s not crazy!” As much as Dom wanted Matt to get better again, the idea of a therapy sounded very different from Chris’ mouth than it did in his head. “We could do this if he finally stopped being so fucking stubborn. We’ve seen-”

“No, Dom. No. Neither we, nor you or Matt have seen _worse_. Ever. And I want you to stop thinking like that. You’re completely pissed and on edge. And stop defending him. That won’t help anyone. How is he supposed to realise how bad it actually is when you _both_ refuse to see it? I’m pretty much on the outside and I can see that nothing is alright, least of all you 2.” The bassist tilted his head and, as always, remained as calm as humanly possible. The rational, level headed bastard.

“And when have you become a therapist?” the drummer replied, annoyed by how reasonable Chris sounded.

“First time I met you two. Otherwise at least one of us would’ve ended up with a guitar over his head long ago,” the taller man said, giving his friend a sad smile. Slowly the tension left the room again, and Dom felt exhausted. So he just nodded with a small smile of his own.

“Sounds about right.”

“Please think about it, Dom. If anyone can get him to do it, it’s you.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“I do.” The bassist nodded. “I wish I could help you more, but I don’t think that would be appreciated.”

The blonde shook his head. “No. No, it’s better only one of us loses his mind.”

He sighed and opened another beer, downing it in one go. Chris watched him quietly, until conversation flowed away from the enigma locked up in the guest room.

___

 

_06.10.2013_

Boiling. There was no other word for it, Dom’s insides were boiling. Hot, white and painful. Today was one of these days where he couldn’t even be bothered to try and stay level headed. The singer had done it again; thrown him a metaphorical bone and taken it away as soon as it was within Dom’s reach. Sure he knew that Matt had gone through some tough shit, but that was really no reason to behave like one huge dick. Dom had tried everything. _Everything!_ But whenever he risked another try at getting closer to the singer, he simply shut himself off more, ran away, or downright ignored the drummer. The man _knew_ that he loved him and yet he didn’t make the slightest effort to at least acknowledge it.

Seriously, Dom didn’t expect much of his traumatised bandmate. Hell, he _understood_ why Matt was still frightened at night, why he was uncertain about social interaction and sometimes needed some physical and mental space to himself. But… they’d _always_ trusted each other, always had had each other’s backs. Why didn’t Matt trust him now? Why didn’t he just _talk_ to him? Dom was so convinced that talking about it would speed up the healing process that he’d secretly contacted a therapist for his friend, to explain the situation and maybe get some advice on how to help the singer. Yes, that’s how desperate the drummer was. He’d gone behind Matt’s back and done something the singer would very likely loathe him for. But whatever… he was so very much past caring.

By now he felt like the babysitter of an enormously disturbed toddler. Seriously, if Dom didn’t make him eat, the singer would have probably starved already. Running after him, trying to tend to his needs while not knowing what it was that he really needed. Because he refused to just fucking talk! The whole situation made him want to tear his hair. Or smash his head into a wall. Constantly. No measures seemed drastic enough for him. Somewhere deep down he knew that it was an unfair thought but he couldn’t help feeling like Matt was somehow using him. Dom had never had a problem with _giving_ , but it was draining him so much because the singer offered next to nothing in return. He wasn’t doing this to get anything from his friend, no. But couldn’t he at least stop avoiding Dom? Maybe acknowledge his efforts? Was that really too much to ask?

The drummer felt like the changes in Matt were changing him, too. He didn’t know when he’d become such a bitter cynic. Apart from the singer’s former self, he also missed his own attitude towards life now. Where there had been smiles, fun and appreciation for each other before, there was now suspicion, reluctance and resentment. Everything he had usually defined himself and his connection with Matt by had vanished into nothing. It was only understandable that Dom hated it. Right now he hated pretty much everything. And some subconscious part of him blamed Matt for it. Something he hated himself for even more.

He was lounging on the couch in front of the telly, not paying any attention to the programme as he was completely consumed by his thoughts. It was then that Matt decided to grace him with his ever so delightful presence. The singer didn’t even have to say anything to annoy the shit out of Dom. Not that they were talking much anyway…

“What are you up to?” the drummer asked, already on edge again.

“Nothing.” Matt’s voice had taken on this muffled, diminutive sound again that made Dom want to shake him senseless.

“Right.”

“You?”

“Telly. The programme sucks, though.”

“What’re you watching?”

“No idea.”

Wow, this was literally the longest, smoothest conversation they’d had in days. And for some reason Dom didn’t feel like continuing it. Not like this, anyway. He muted the TV and slowly turned his head towards Matt who was sitting in the armchair next to the couch, visibly stiffening at the unwanted scrutiny. The drummer narrowed his eyes at him and sat up a bit straighter.

“Not enough entertainment up there anymore?” he asked sharply and glanced up at the ceiling for a second.

At that Matt’s eyes turned harder and he bit his lip as if to keep his words in.

“I mean, you don’t seem to enjoy being in the same room with me lately,” Dom elaborated and turned his gaze to one of the windows. “Let alone talking to me. What changed your mind?”

“I…” the singer stammered, obviously suppressing his own anger. His hands were tightly clasping his knees, effectively making his knuckles turn white. “I’m just socialising.”

“Socialising?” Dom barked a laugh. “Are you serious?”

“Very much so.”

“I can’t believe it…” the drummer muttered under his breath and again locked eyes with Matt. “You’re the most unsociable person on this planet right now. And you don’t even seem to see that! Seriously Matt, what is wrong with you?”

“Nothing!” the singer spat back bitterly. “I’m fine.” But he obviously wasn’t if his trembling hands or averted eyes were anything to go by.

Dom had been patient. He’d waited so long for Matt to come around. If he didn’t want to, though, there was no other way than to say it straight to his face. Otherwise Dom would probably explode with all the bottled up feelings sooner than later.

“Do you really not see the mess you’re making? Don’t you realise how much you’re hurting me with this?” By now the drummer was too agitated to remain seated so he stood up, looking down at Matt with resentment dominating his every feature. “Look at what this is doing to the people around you, Matt! I mean, look at us for fuck’s sake! Do you even recognise yourself anymore? You’re avoiding me like I’m contagious… Really, you need help.”

Matt’s tension was tangible, adding one more barrier to the many between the two musicians. He opened his mouth then to reply to Dom’s reproaches. But no sound made it past his pale lips. Anger had taken hold of him, too, and he jumped up in one rapid motion, coming dangerously close to the drummer. For a second their eyes were locked again and it almost looked as if the smaller man was about to throw a punch, but then he broke away to quickly make his escape. But Dom didn’t feel quite ready to let him off the hook so easily. So he took two steps and effectively blocked Matt’s way out.

“What do you think you’re doing? You’re not fucking off again now! It’s time to talk straight. I don’t give a flying fuck if you feel like it or not. _I_ feel like it and this has been about you long enough. You know, I have feelings, too.” While he knew this sounded quite pathetic the words were out before he could stop himself.

“Leave me alone,” the singer bit back and tried to evade Dom.

“Yeah, no. I’ve done that and it didn’t work. We’re doing this my way now.” When had he become so aggressive? So not him? He didn’t like himself very much in that moment, to say the least. But they were past the point of return. The drummer grabbed Matt’s wrist and forced him to look him in the eyes again. “This is not you!” Ah yes, there was his desperation again. “I can’t do this anymore, Matt! If you really, honestly don’t want to talk to me, say it. To my face.”

Tears were visibly pricking at the singer’s blazing blue eyes and he stared at Dom in baffled disbelief. Then his features hardened again and he ripped himself free from Dom’s tight grip. “I don’t want to talk to you. Happy now?” he almost shouted and then, without waiting for a reply, ran past Dom, into the hallway and up the stairs. The sound of his bedroom door banging shut echoed through Dom’s head for hours after.  

Later that night Dom stepped into his bedroom and shot a glance over his shoulder. Across the hallway there was Matt’s room, the door left open just a tiny bit. Its default setting nowadays. Its openness wasn’t to be mistaken for an invitation. Especially not after their fruitless talk.

“Talk,” Dom laughed sarcastically to himself. In hindsight he knew how big of an arsehole he’d been to Matt. He couldn’t deny that it’d felt a bit liberating to finally vent at least some of his frustration on the singer, though.

A thin beam of light was falling onto the dark wooden floor and Dom didn’t know if he felt reassured by it or not. Despite the growing emotional gap between the 2, he’d noticed that Matt didn’t sleep well. In fact that had always been quite a problem for the singer. But now… To Dom it seemed like Matt didn’t sleep at all. Sometimes exhaustion took reign and he just fell asleep wherever he was sitting at the time, of course. But going to bed with the purpose of resting didn’t work anymore.

With a sigh he half closed his door and went over to the wardrobe to find something to wear for the night. His last outfit was in the laundry as he had spent one sweaty night in it, trying to fall asleep while Matt had obviously been wandering through the house. The thought of losing him again was now so deeply anchored in his personality that he wouldn’t fall asleep until Matt was at least in his bed. Of course this was taking its toll on him, too. Everything was. He wouldn’t be Dom if he’d _actually_ stopped caring, no matter how often he tried to convince himself of the opposite. Because not caring didn’t hurt so much. He wished he could make it stop. Make everything stop.

There, just next door, was the one person he had been prepared to die for. Still was. And he was acting completely out of it. They both were. Well, obviously. But he didn’t seem to reciprocate any of his feelings. They were living in the same house at the moment, but nothing suggested that Matt had any interest in actually conversing with him. Frankly, Dom didn’t know what to do about it, anymore. He’d never been this much out of his depth before.

Slowly he let himself sink onto the mattress and pulled the covers over his tired body. Oh, it felt good… He tried to close his eyes and let himself be taken over by sweet, nightly unconsciousness. But with a deep inner sigh he realised the one problem that stood between him and his deserved rest. He couldn’t. Almost annoyed he opened his eyes again and rolled on his side so he could watch the door.

The blonde didn’t expect Matt to just walk in, no. He had done stuff like that in the past just because he had felt like it, yes. But now the situation was completely different. Matt had shut himself off from him further than ever. There was none of his former effortlessness or impulsiveness left in him. He didn’t laugh, he didn’t relax, he didn’t play, he didn’t joke. Sometimes Dom wasn’t even sure if he smiled anymore. Maybe those were just random motions of his facial muscles, simply born from disuse.

Then it started once again. Dom’s eyes were trained on the gap between door and frame immediately, and he watched as the light in Matt’s room was being switched on and off again and again. Sometimes it took the singer a bit longer to figure out if light was preferable to darkness. He always went back on his decision a moment later anyway.

Dom didn’t know what to do. There were soft footsteps in the room across. Apparently Matt was walking back and forth, but trying not to disturb Dom in the process. Sometimes he could also hear the springs of the bed. Those were the moments Matt sat down, satisfied with his decision, just before he would get up again to walk back to the switch.

In a way Dom felt quite aggravated by Matt’s behaviour. But not in the way it had aggravated him before everything. Matt didn’t bounce around anymore because he didn’t know how to release his energy. He didn’t wake him at night to tell him about some strange ideas or lizard queens. Honestly, he didn’t do much at all lately. He just… he aggravated Dom.  

Rather annoyed with _everything_ (and especially himself, for all his inabilities) he squeezed his eyes shut and pulled a pillow over his head. When he could still hear Matt pacing around his room, though, he pressed the soft fabric to his ears, wishing for him to just _go away_. He felt like a helpless child then. He couldn’t deal with the situation anymore and felt close to his breaking point again. It felt even worse than  when he’d worried about Matt’s life. Because then it hadn’t been his fault, not really. But now it kind of was. At least partly. What the hell had he done to deserve all of this?

With yet another sigh the blonde turned over to his other side and willed himself to fall asleep while a tiny switch was flicked over and over and over again.


	15. Chapter 15

_07.10.2013_

Dom woke with a start. He didn’t know what had woken him, he couldn’t remember a nightmare, and he was still tucked under his blankets, so coldness wasn’t the reason either. He looked around the dark room until his eyes fell on the digital clock on his bedside table, indicating it was just past 3 in the morning. The blonde sighed and closed his eyes again.

However, sleep wouldn’t embrace him anymore. Dom turned on his side and stared at the clock again, watching the minutes tick by. He somehow felt uneasy, as if there was something bothering the back of his mind. Well, there were many things bothering him at the moment, but those hadn’t been a problem so far. No, it was something different. He sighed once again and got out of bed.

He winced when his feet hit the floor. He was only clad in his boxers, so his body craved the warm cocoon of his blankets and the comfort of sleep. But his mind told him he had other things to do. Something important. What, he couldn’t figure out just yet, but something felt wrong, completely off. His instincts told him as much.

He quietly padded down the corridor and stopped at the door to the guestroom. It was slightly ajar, just like it had been ever since Matt had moved in. Thinking of the small brunette, Dom felt the urge to check on him and make sure that everything was alright. He gripped the doorknob and pushed the door open ever so slowly, mindful not to make any noise that could wake Matt, and walked into the room.

The bed was empty. Matt obviously hadn’t slept in it as it was still made and untouched. Dom exited the room and went to the kitchen, fully expecting Matt to sit there and get some wine into his system. But the kitchen was dark and there was no singer sitting at the table, being deep in thought. Dom’s brows furrowed. He didn’t want to panic yet, but he definitely felt worried and a bit scared.

Frantically, he entered the living room and looked around, then checked the terrace. Both places held no Muse frontman. Neither did any other room in his house. Matt was gone.

The blonde drew a shaky breath. “Calm down, Howard…”

He set off to reach the small music room, his last hope. The door was slightly open and dim light spilled from the inside. Dom’s heart skipped a beat. He quickly opened the door.

“Matt, what are-”

But the room was just as empty as the rest of the house. He shut the light and tried to control his rising fear. Where the fuck had Matt gone?

He walked back to his bedroom to retrieve his mobile phone and dialed the singer’s number with shaky fingers. It took forever to connect, and Dom nearly had a heart attack when he heard a familiar ringtone chiming nearby. Immediately he followed the sound back to the guestroom.

He’d hoped Matt had only pulled a bad prank on him, that he’d find the singer sitting on his bed with a manic grin and telling him what an idiot he was. But no, the room was still dark and the phone vibrated from within the bedside table.

With his heart sinking, he picked it up. “Dominic calling.” was written on the screen, with a picture of him grinning into the camera above it. The device only quietened down when Dom ended the call, and the flashing and beeping was replaced with a small LED light indicating there was a missed call and suffocating darkness.

Matt was gone and he didn’t have his phone with him. Matt was gone. Dom threw the phone on the bed and ran through the house again, badly hoping he’d find the singer this time around. A variation between Matt’s name and “This isn’t funny, stop it.” echoed through the halls, but the singer was nowhere to be found.

In record time Dom got dressed in plain black skinnies and a dark blue button-up, tying his shoelaces while he called Chris. The bassist picked up after a couple of rings, clearly pissed off that Dom had woken him.

“I can’t find Matt,” Dom wailed into the phone as an alternative way of greeting.

“What?” Chris was instantly awake and alarmed. “What do you mean, you can’t find him?”

“He’s not at home, I don’t…” Dom shut the door behind himself and ran down the street, not even knowing where he should start. He felt so helpless. “I don’t know where he is. I’m scared.”

“Have you called him?”

“His phone’s at home. I don’t know where he is. Chris, I’m scared.”

They decided to split up and look for Matt separately. Frankly, they had no idea where to look. Had he run? Or did Suzanne have a second companion at last? Dom didn’t know which option he found scarier.

He ran through the streets aimlessly, checking bars and open restaurants, but to no avail. The more places he checked the more desperate he became. It was once again as if the world had swallowed the singer whole. He wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket. Shouldn’t the pain and worrying be over by now?

The clock told Dom that it was already nearing 5 when he made his way back home, crying into his jacket stupidly, when he passed Matt’s house. It stood dark just like the drummer had expected, but it wasn’t as quiet as he’d thought it to be. He could hear single notes being hit on a piano carried by the chilly autumn wind.

New hope flared in his chest at that, and he quickly strode to the door and unlocked it. Unsure steps brought him to the living room where the piano now lay quiet. The man that had tinkered with the keys, however, was still there, his silhouette visible even without any source of light.

Dom had been so scared, but now he felt his anger rising. He’d thought his friend might have been abducted, once again a slave to whoever decided to use him this time. He’d thought Matt might have run, to kill himself, to get away from them… from _him_. Every dark thought he could have had had sprung to his mind, that’s how fucking scared he had been. But the wanker had been here the whole time, playing the stupid piano. He should have felt relief, but he only felt hurt and anger, and all the frustration and pain that had built up for weeks.

He turned on the light and stared at the back of his friend who jumped and immediately turned to him.

“Good morning, Matt,” the blonde sneered. “Hope you had your fun while I ran through the damn city, trying to find your stupid arse.”

“Dom-“

“Don’t fucking _‘Dom’_ me. I was shit scared that you were god knows where.“

He approached the piano slowly, continuing with, “But you were here, instead, dicking around on the piano. Did you have your fun? Did you think about anyone else but yourself? Do you even _care_ about me anymore?”

“No, Dom. It’s not like-“

With a swift motion, Matt was pinned against the piano, the keys biting into his back painfully. Dom didn’t care when the singer winced.

“What have I done to you to deserve this? I get it, you don’t return my feelings. You’ve made that perfectly clear. What I don’t understand is, why be such a dick about it? You’re free to leave my house whenever you want.”

Matt tried to get up, but Dom wouldn’t let him. If any, he only pushed him down harder. Matt wouldn’t get away this time.

“Is it the guilt? Do you feel like you _owe_ me? Is that it? Because let me tell you, you can fuck off right then. I don’t need your fucking pity.”

He felt tears prickling in his eyes while he spoke. Voicing it all aloud just made it more painful to him. He was truly pathetic.

“God, Matt, just _looking_ at you right now makes me want to punch you! I’ve tried everything to make you comfortable, to make you feel at home, to make you- But instead you just distance yourself further and refuse any help. You don't want to be around me, okay, but then fuck off to Chris or live your life alone because I can’t take this anymore. I can’t-“

Shaking fingers snaked around his wrist and Dom stopped in his speech. He immediately let go of the singer as if he only realised just now what he had been doing to him.

It wasn’t fair. He thought that once Matt was back home, everything would be alright and they could pick up where they’d left as a band, and start something completely new as a couple. But Dom had to come to terms with the fact that nothing would ever be the same again. Matt didn’t seem to want to play in a band anymore, and he surely didn’t love Dom as much as Dom loved him.

His shoulders visibly sagged and he sighed deeply. The anger was gone already, just by a simple touch from the brunette, and instead Dom was left with the hollow feeling of loneliness and resignation.

It wasn’t fair, but it wasn’t fair to force Matt, either.

“I- I’m sorry, Matt. I didn’t mean to- I’ll be at home if you need me.”

He turned around to leave as quickly as possible, but the grip on his wrist wouldn’t let go. Instead it only became stronger and Dom got the feeling that Matt was wordlessly telling him to stay.

When Dom didn’t move the singer let go of him and turned back to the piano. His fingers were touching the keys so lightly that there was no sound coming from the instrument. Dom watched him putting his fingers on different keys. The result was the same, no sound emanating from the piano.

“I’m sorry.”

Matt sounded so broken in that moment that Dom nearly crumbled himself. He took an audible breath and slid down to sit with his back to the piano stool, his shoulders slightly touching Matt’s back. They both stayed quiet and collected their thoughts.

“I don’t…” Matt began and Dom held his breath.

He felt the urge to nudge Matt, to make him continue, but this was maybe his only chance where Matt would explain, where Dom could _understand_. He didn’t want to jeopardise that with his impatience.

At last, Matt broke the settling silence again. “I just feel like I can’t play anymore. I want to, really, but everything seems so hard, as if I’ve never learned how to play. It feels like I’m starting from scratch. There’s a blockade I can’t break.”

“But you said you’re fine,” Dom whispered.

Matt sighed. “I lied.”

“But why? Matt, we could have arranged something with a therapist.”

“I don’t want to go to a shrink, okay? I don’t want to be… And I didn’t want to worry you.”

But they had worried, constantly. And Matt must have known that, must have seen them prepare for the worst case, must have heard them talking about him. Yet, he’d never uttered a single word. Out of pride? Was he too proud to admit he wasn’t the perfect pianist and guitarist anymore? He had always taken it way too hard when he didn’t get a riff right or couldn’t figure out the melody to a new song, but this was incredibly blown out of proportion. It made Dom indescribably angry.

“Don’t you realise how stupid that is?” he barked. In the back of his mind he felt like an arse for shouting the following words, but he just couldn’t help it. “You’re a selfish git if you think that keeping this to yourself was the way to go. So you need to practice and work on this blockade, tough. I know it’s not as easy for you, with everything that has happened, but we thought you wanted to distance yourself, for fuck’s sake. Instead you’re trying to tell me that you just couldn’t stand the thought of us knowing that you have a problem with playing? Is that it? Did you think we’d think differently of you? We thought you didn’t want to be around us anymore. I thought you didn’t want to be around _me_. You’ve treated me like shit and made me feel worthless to you.”

“You don’t understand, Dom.”

“Then enlighten me,” he begged. “Please.”

Silence followed and Dom sighed. Of course Matt wouldn’t tell him. Was that how it would be now? Was that their relationship from now on, Dom running after Matt and Matt walking his way alone?

The blonde was just about to get up when Matt took a deep breath. Anxious, he slid back down to the floor and waited.

“I don’t feel like myself anymore. I feel like this… like I’m a shadow, or a ghost. Like I’m not here anymore. Everything that once meant the world to me and made me _me_ , it’s gone. I want to play, but I can’t get my fingers to move. I hate it. I hate myself.”

“Matt-“

“It’s like a part of me is still down there, still locked up, bound to play for her and only her for eternity.” His voice cracked.

Dom didn’t know what to say. His throat felt dry and his tongue like lead. He’d tried so long to understand Matt and his weird behaviour, had tried to understand why he was getting better, but became more like a stranger to all of them. He had his answer now, but instead of satisfaction, he felt like breaking down here and now. A shudder ran through him when he realised that Matt had been fighting his battles alone.

Quickly, he sat up and wrapped his arms around the singer. The small body under him shook forcefully after only a few seconds, as if the mere physical contact with Dom broke all the walls he’d carefully built over the past weeks.

The façade crumbled and Dom could see the scared man that he’d found in his cell. The singer sobbed loudly and his hands left the keys to grab at Dom’s arms around him, trying to claw through the fabric of the jacket. Dom only hugged him tighter and pressed his face against the singer’s cheek. He didn’t say a thing, just let Matt cry while he hugged and kissed him and tried to comfort him as good as possible.

“It’s… It’s hard for me. Everything. It was a nightmare down there.”

“Tell me?”

“I don’t… I just…”

Matt struggled to find the words, awkwardly fumbling with the hem of his shirt, and Dom almost regretted asking him to explain. He’d been a fool to think Matt could handle this on his own, that he was getting better without seeing help. And how stupid had he been to not see that his best friend was struggling? That it wasn’t him drifting apart from them, but rather him being unable to come back? He’d just assumed everything would be okay, simply because he didn’t want to deal with it himself.

They’d never talked about it, and if he was completely honest, he was partly to blame, because he’d never asked. He’d closed his eyes to the horror that Matt had gone through, just because he didn’t want to hear it. He had wanted to put it behind them, keep it in the past, but Matt had lived through this and he couldn’t just ignore it and move on. He had been a colossal knob for thinking that Matt would just have to go to a therapist a couple of times a week and the events would be erased from his mind. Things couldn’t be go back to normal. Matt couldn’t go back to how he’d been, because he wasn’t the same anymore.

“Do you remember this huge mirror? The one that took over the wall?” Matt’s voice suddenly piped up quietly and brought Dom back out of his thoughts. He nodded. “It was a… You know, she could just watch me from the other side and just… Dunno, see what I was doing. I don’t know how often she did it, but the possibility alone… It’s…”

“Frightening.”

“Yeah. After some time she let the lights on, so she might have checked on me a lot more often.”

“The lights on?”

Matt shrugged. “There were no windows. She turned the lights on and off whenever she pleased. Lost my sense of time quite quickly.”

The blonde had figured that much, with Matt checking the clocks almost constantly.

“She took so many pictures and asked me to play for her a lot,” Matt continued and his voice sounded almost detached from the whole situation, “Really had no choice, so I just, y’know, did what she asked. In the beginning I struggled a lot and her lover beat me up for it. I stopped fighting after some time. I gave up.”

Instinctively, Dom’s hand sought out the brunette’s hand and squeezed reassuringly. The thought of someone beating Matt, _hurting him_ , still set his insides on fire and made him see red. Knowing it had occurred on a daily basis made him want to claw through the bodies of those responsible with his bare hands.

Matt had fallen quiet then, instead brushing his nose against the blonde’s chest. Dom touched his hair, his hand moving to the pale neck to caress the soft skin.

Feeling the need to say something, Dom spoke ever so softly, “I don’t think you gave up, Matt. I know you. You only chose the smart way. They could have hurt you even worse.” > _Or killed you._

The singer raised his head to look at him and hummed. Then he fell quiet again, thinking about what else to say. “I was so scared, you know? Suzanne was even scarier, more twisted. She may not have beaten me up but when she killed him…”

“Did you… Did you have to watch that?” The answer scared him. He knew what Napolitano’s head had looked like.

Matt nodded and cracked a sad smile, his eyes moving from Dom’s face to the floor. “Sat next to him. Thought she’d shoot me, but then she killed him. Had to clean my bed and stuff.”

“Fucking hell,” Dom whispered under his breath and rubbed one of Matt’s arms vigorously. It was an unconscious action, as if he needed to get warmth back into Matt’s limbs. It didn’t stop himself from shaking slightly. The images his mind was conjuring probably weren’t even close to what Matt had gone through, and yet, they were enough to make him want to break down and cry.

“It’s okay. It got easier after that.”

“But how did you… What…” Dom was the one not knowing how to word things now. Matt was finally opening up, but he said these things as if they’d happened to someone else. A defense mechanism, no doubt. But still, it made Dom feel uncomfortable, even more so than just imagining what Matt had gone through. He highly doubted Matt would ever tell him the details, and that was maybe for the best.

Still, he couldn’t help but speak up, the thought having plagued his mind for so long. “She seemed to be obsessed with you. Did she… Did they ever touch you? Like... Did they...“

“No,” the answer was almost immediate. Dom could breathe again. “No, they didn’t. Not in that way. I was part of her collection. She didn’t… She…”

His breath hitched then and shaking hands gripped Dom’s shoulders. His eyes were wide and glassy. Dom instinctively tightened the grip on the singer’s knees. They stared at each other.

“Dom. Dom, I was part of her collection. I wasn’t…. She didn’t see me as a person. I wasn’t… She…”

The blonde pulled Matt from the stool and into his lap. A hand went to the back of Matt’s head and pushed him back against Dom’s chest, the singer’s long fingers bunching the fabric of the drummer’s shirt. Dom felt as if he was squeezing his heart together, the realisation of what all of his ordeal implied finally hitting Matt.

“Fuck,” a tiny broken voice whispered against Dom’s chest. “Fuck. I wasn’t… I’m not…”

“You are,” the blonde spoke up as softly as he could. “You have always been and you will always be. Do you hear me?”

There was no reply, so Dom used his left hand to gingerly lift up Matt’s chin so he’d have to look at the drummer. Matt, however, averted his eyes.

“Look at me. Please.”

The gentle command was followed by Matt’s eyes flickering to Dom’s face before they looked away again. Seconds passed in which Dom held his breath, until Matt finally locked eyes with him, the sadness in them almost breaking his heart.

“It doesn’t matter what she thought of you, because she was wrong. Your musical talent doesn’t define who you are. _You_ do. You are a person. An eccentric, hyperactive and sometimes annoying person. But also a brilliant, kind and passionate individual. And you matter. To your family, to your fans, to Chris, Tom and Morgan and everyone else. To me. _I love you._ And that won’t change, whether you can play or  sing or ramble about your silly theories. Okay?”

The blue eyes were once again cast downward, but Dom needed him to see, so he asked again, “Okay?”

“Okay,” the singer whispered in return. A small, unsure whisper, as if he wasn’t quite sure of it himself, but Dom would make sure he’d get there.

They stayed on the floor, Matt now leaning against the legs of the piano stool, watching Dom, who in turn watched his left thumb rubbing the singer’s right wrist. It was an intimate gesture that seemed to calm them both. Still, there was an issue that needed to be addressed, whether Matt liked it or not.

“I know you don’t want a therapist,” Dom began carefully, “but maybe you should see someone. Just to have someone who can help you deal with this. It’s okay to admit you need help, Matt. Please.”

He seemed to truly mull the words over in his mind before he sighed. “Let me think about it, yeah?”

Dom smiled, relieved. “Of course. And you know you can always talk to me too, yes?”

“I don’t want to worry you,” Matt replied almost miserably.

“But I worry anyway. And I want to be here for you. Always.”

Another silence followed, this one feeling different from the others. Dom’s gaze lifted from his hand, looking straight into the singer’s intense blue eyes.

“You’re my best friend, Dom,” Matt stated firmly. It was important that Dom understood that, understood what he meant to Matt. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I don’t want to lose you.”

Matt’s gaze lowered to the floor then, and when he looked back up to Dom there was so much vulnerability in his blue eyes that Dom had to physically force himself to stay still.

Matt’s voice was unsure, but clear, when he said, “I want you.”

His hand involuntarily tightened on Matt’s wrist and Dom’s whole body froze in shock. He wanted to reach out, touch his face and kiss him, but Dom knew it wasn’t that easy. There was more behind this, more Matt wanted to say, so he waited for the brunette to continue.

“I want you,” Matt repeated. “I want to be with you. But I… But I can’t. Not right now. Not like this.”

His face crumbled and fresh tears started to fall. His next words were so quiet that Dom had to strain his ears to understand him.

“Please don’t leave me.”

That was all it took for Dom to reach forward and hold the singer’s face between his hands. More and more tears started to fall and Dom wiped every single one away with his thumbs. One of Matt’s hands shot out to hold onto the drummer upper arm, the other shakily touched his neck and Dom felt his own eyes well up.

They both cried together for a while, letting out all the pent up emotions. It felt freeing, like redemption washing over both of them.

Matt wanted him. All these weeks of feeling unwanted and unloved were wiped away with that single sentence. But Matt needed to get better first. He needed to overcome this depression, needed to love himself again.

Dom moved forward and kissed Matt softly before he promised, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Even if it took Matt years to recover, he could wait. As long as Matt wanted him, he could wait an eternity if he had to.

He hugged the smaller man again and Matt immediately pushed his face into the crook of Dom’s neck. Matt had stopped crying at some point, but they both refused to let go of the other, now that they’d finally found each other again.

They remained like that until Dom’s legs started to hurt from the strain put on them by kneeling awkwardly in front of the singer. He stood up to full height and pulled Matt with him, kissing him again.

“Let’s go home, okay?”

Matt hummed and closed the lid of the piano. He stared at it thoughtfully, and Dom let him do. While Matt was lost in his own world, he walked to the door already and quickly thumbed a message to Chris who he’d completely forgotten until now.

_Found him, he’s ok. Will explain later. Sry 4 worrying u. D x_

The reply was almost immediate.

_Thank god. Take care of him. Love you 2. C_

He stashed the phone back into his pocket and watched Matt pull on his jacket. A small nod from the singer indicated that he was ready to go and Dom opened the door for them.

When Matt’s hand carefully slid into Dom’s halfway into their walk home, the blonde knew that things would be okay somehow.

 

  



	16. Chapter 16

_Somewhere between London and Teignmouth, 23.12.2013_

  
“Matt, no!”  
  
“You can’t be serious, man!”  
  
“But it’s a Christmas song!”  
  
“It’s fucking Wham!”  
  
“But I’m the driver! The driver gets to pick the music!”  
  
“Not if his fellow passenger’s ears start bleeding from his horrible taste!”  
  
Matt’s hand still hovered over the radio and he was positively glaring at the drummer until Dom eventually caved. With a disgruntled pout he put his left hand back on the steering wheel and leant back in his seat. They’d already been on the road for about 2 hours now, just having passed Bristol, and well on their way to Teignmouth. The weather was brutal to say the least. Sleet was pouring down on them like mad, and it had been like that for the past week. As if that wasn’t enough already the weather seemed to be exactly the same for the greater part of England. The southern to mid part, that was. North England was pretty much dry or so the news people wanted to make them believe. That wasn’t  _Dom’s_  train of thought, though. No, Matt was slowly but steadily getting back to his former media paranoid self, and although Dom would have never thought it possible, this made him happier than anything, and only a tiny bit annoyed if he was being honest.  
  
“Prick,” the blonde mumbled, but his lips curled into a soft smile.  
  
“I’m just trying to save our lives here,” Matt replied and crossed his arms. “You should be grateful.”  
  
“Oh, you think so? And why, pray, is that?”  
  
“Well, look at all that shitty sleet. You can’t even see the road properly. If I hadn’t stepped in you would have also impaired your hearing. You really think I wanna put my life into the hands of a blind AND deaf driver? No way.”  
  
Dom furrowed his brows and bit his lip, pretending to think about Matt’s words. But in truth he just needed to stop himself from actually laughing. It just felt so liberating to have bantering Matt back.  
  
“Yeah, you’re right, I guess,” he sighed in mock resignation. Then he yawned and closed his eyes for a second. “I’m too tired for loud music, anyway.”  
  
“Are you fucking insane?” Matt cried out in a high-pitched voice and was already leaning over to Dom to make a grab for the steering wheel.  
  
“No, but apparently you are,” Dom laughed and nudged Matt’s chest to get him back into his seat. “You can’t just attack the driver, didn’t you learn that in driving school?”  
  
“Stop fucking with me,” the singer pouted and turned away from his friend, suddenly appearing to be far more interested in the landscape behind the completely blurred window. “Dick.”  
  
“What did you just say?” The drummer was still grinning widely and he was actually afraid that it might become scary at some point.  
“Dick.” Matt somehow managed to pronounce the single syllable as if it was made of two.  
  
“Yeah, I thought as much,” Dom replied, giving Matt’s arm a friendly nudge and they fell into a comfortable silence after that.  
  
It was weird, to be frank. So much had happened while so much hadn’t happened. Their talk that one October night had really changed things around. For the better, mind you. No, possibly even for the best. Matt had opened up again. Finally Matt was talking to him again, not letting him in the dark about anything anymore, going so far as telling the blonde the horrifying details of his ordeal. From humiliation to blackmail, Dom now knew everything inside out, and felt a bit like he’d been living it himself. He had also learned what made the brunette tick, what set him off and what calmed him, what Dom himself was allowed to do and what he wasn’t.  
  
Matt had also agreed to start therapy, finally admitting he needed professional help, even though he was still convinced that seeing a therapist made him look broken to everybody (secretly, Dom thought that he somehow had been, but he’d never tell Matt that). The situation still wasn’t easy, mind you. But dealing with it wasn’t as hard anymore, now that they were on the same page again. There had been moments in which Dom had almost started crying, just because he felt so relieved. Those moments were becoming fewer as they were both getting more stable, but still, seeing Matt smile… It was heart warming, really.  
  
Dom had settled back into comfortableness when his best friend was around. They both obviously craved each others’ presence, even if nothing even remotely romantic happened between them. The drummer didn’t push because he had his friend back. Of course he still wanted him like mad, but he had promised to wait, and wait he would. Just knowing that Matt wanted him, too, was enough to calm his ever so frayed nerves. And if anything the man deserved to get all the time he needed. Dom knew him well enough to be sure that he’d come around when he was ready.  
  
It was amazingly nice to finally be sure of something again. Of something concerning Matt. After not being sure if he’d ever see him again, if he was still alive, then if he ever wanted to talk to him again, if he was still  _Matt_. Now he knew things again. He knew that Matt wanted him around. Most of the time he knew how Matt felt. And those instances he didn’t, he wasn’t afraid to ask anymore. If he felt like something was bothering his friend, he was just straight with him and asked.  
  
In return Matt seemed to get better by the minute. He also wasn’t afraid of facing what had happened to him anymore. At least not too afraid. Of course there were still nights, especially those after his therapy sessions, in which he was restless and wouldn’t fall asleep for hours. But they knew that it was part of the healing process. If Matt wanted to go back to his life, this was the way. Probably the only. And even though digging up all this unconscious shit made him fragile and unstable at times, they both saw his progress. Which, now that Dom thought about it, was probably the reason why he continued. He saw the progress and felt how well it did him. He’d finally understood that things that did him well, were probably the best things in life. Like Dom.  
  
Yes, the singer had once said this to him, it wasn’t anything he was thinking about himself. One night after an especially revealing and soul-stirring meeting with his therapist Matt had snuck into Dom’s bed. For a moment Dom had been shocked to suddenly have his arms full of a sobbing Matt, but he’d caught on quickly enough. Emotion spilling and close hugging and the need for more comfort had occurred then. Of course Dom had felt incredibly bad for his friend, but he’d also been secretly happy that he’d again become the person Matt turned to in times of vulnerability. In  _all_  times. They were growing close again. Closer than they’d ever been, maybe.  
  
“Mate, eyes on the road!” Matt suddenly scolded him, bolting upright and gripping his seat, his indignantly high-pitched voice tinged with slight panic.  
  
Dom shook his head to get back to reality. He’d slowed down a lot and now people were honking and giving them the finger. Oh. Well, that’s what thinking about Matt Bellamy does to you.  
  
“Sorry,” the drummer mumbled while suppressing a small smile. It could’ve been worse.  
  
“I think you’re not fit to drive.”  
  
After one of the more persistent honkers had passed them by, the singer had settled back into his seat with crossed arms and an enormous pout on his face. From where Dom was sitting it looked like Matt’s whole face had turned into a pout. Laughter threatened to disrupt his driving so he tried to keep it to the bare minimum. He didn’t want to crash them into anything, after all.  
  
After a few minutes of silence which they both needed to come down from their short, strange high, Dom rested his head back and snuck a quick look at his friend. Matt seemed comfortable enough, with his eyes closed and his hands resting on his belly. His fingers were tapping along to Freddie Mercury’s  _Thank God it’s Christmas_  and his lips moved ever so slightly as if they were forming rudimental words. Dom bit his lip in thought. Talking in itself wasn’t a problem between them anymore. But some topic’s still felt a little too delicate to be upfront about them. So he had to be more careful when addressing them.  
  
“So…” he breathed and broke the silence again. “You’re really okay with this?”  
  
“With what?” The singer turned his head a little and shot Dom a confused look.  
  
“With celebrating Christmas in Teignmouth. With Chris and the family. With everybody. People,” he kept hinting, not turning his eyes away from the road.  
  
For a moment Matt remained silent. Dom could almost hear him thinking all the possible answers through before settling on one. To the drummer it was painfully obvious that Matt was still scared of larger crowds and of people asking him questions. But to his surprise his friend’s face softened a little, smoothing out his frown. A small sigh escaped his lips before he finally spoke up.  
  
“I don’t know, to be quite honest. I like to think that I am, in fact, okay with it. I want to be.”  
  
“You know that they won’t pester you about anything, right? And if it gets too much, you can always take a break. You can always tell me,” Dom continued and tilted his head at his friend.  
  
“Yeah, yeah, I know. But I really want to see everyone and I don’t think I’ll break,” the singer replied half-jokingly, but Dom could still hear the slight fear underneath his words. He would definitely keep an eye on him. Better not to let him notice, though.  
  
“The kids are really looking forward to seeing their crazy uncle again,” the drummer said in way of reassurance. “I talked to them on the phone the other day and they didn’t even care about  _me_  coming down for Christmas. All they wanted to know was if you were coming, too.”  
  
A genuine smile curled the corners of Matt’s lips,one of the things that really made Dom’s heart skip a beat. He just loved that look on his friend.  
  
“I’m happy about seeing them again, too. Didn’t even realise how much I missed the little buggers until Christmas came around.”  
  
“Funny, they said the same about you.”  
  
“Fuck you, Dom,” Matt laughed, leaned back and comfortably crossed his ankles.

___

 

_Teignmouth, 24.12.2014_

  
Matt was lounging on the sofa in his favourite old sweatpants and the green Christmas sweater his mum had given him a few years ago, rewatching the latest Doctor Who special, when Dom entered the living room. There was a plate full of biscuits and a half-empty teapot on the table. Just like Dom had left him an hour ago when he’d gone to the kitchen to put up some Christmas decorations and make his famous sauce for tomorrow’s dinner with his mum and his sister’s family. Fuck, when had he become the housewife in this… friendship?  
  
“Oi you lazy fucker! Get off your arse and help me, will you?”  
  
Matt turned around, his still dishevelled and unwashed mop of hair just peaking over the back of the sofa.  
  
“No.”  
  
“No?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“And why’s that?”  
  
“Because I’m lazy. You just said so yourself.”  
  
Dom rolled his eyes at his friend’s avoidance of any Christmas-y work. “Got all your presents wrapped?”  
  
“Yup.”  
  
“Cards written?”  
  
“Yup.”  
  
“Clothes ready for tomorrow?”  
  
“Seriously, Dom. Who do you think I am.”  
  
“The most unorganised person I know. That’s why I’m asking.”  
  
“ _I_  think you’re asking because you’re jealous that you have to do all your preparations while I can watch telly and eat delicious biscuits.”  
  
“You could at least help me decorate the house.  _Your_  house.”  
  
“Nah. Tomorrow we’re gonna be at my mum’s place and your mum’s place and the day after at Chris’. Why bother?”  
  
“Because it’s fucking Christmas, you dick.”  
  
That made the singer pause for a second and he gave Dom a strange look, almost tentative. It was… weird. All of a sudden his features were swiped clean of amusement (at the drummer’s expense, mind you) and instead there was something akin to soft intensity, if that even existed. Dom felt awkwardly exposed as Matt’s eyes fixed him on the spot. It felt almost like the singer was looking for something on Dom. What, he didn’t know. The moment was only broken when Matt licked his lips and grinned again.  
  
“You’re adorable when it comes to all things Christmas.” With an exaggerated groan he rolled over andlifted himself up off the sofa. “Okay, I’ll help you. But only if I can be in charge of tinsel.”  
  
“Matt, we don’t even have a tree-”  
  
“Tinsel!”  
  
Dom caved with a sigh and nodded. “Then you shall be the commander of tinsel. Brat.”  
  
“Great,” Matt said and clapped his hands to show his waking enthusiasm, successfully ignoring the latest insult thrown his way. He knew Dom didn’t mean it, anyway.

___

  
Later that evening the whole house glowed in soft Christmas lights and smelled of fresh biscuits, hot chocolate and fir. The tinsel was basically everywhere now, but Dom didn’t really care much. After their decorating session the two had gone out to the shops to run some last minute errands. Sleet was still pouring down on the small seaside town, covering everything in thick layers of wet slush. Almost perfect Christmas weather, Matt had called it. Dom still grinned at that again.  
  
He was seated in one of the huge, comfy armchairs, with a book in his lap and a cup of tea on the tiny table to his left. The drummer could admit that he hadn’t felt this relaxed in forever. Christmas wasn’t one of his favourite times of the year for no reason. Just as he wanted to return to his book, Matt strolled in through the door. His face was still flushed from the shower he’d just taken and a few wet strands of hair were sticking to his temples while the rest of it didn’t look very obedient to its master’s will, either.  
  
Dom’s eyes followed his every movement. The singer evidently hadn’t noticed him yet and so he stayed quiet. You didn’t waste an opportunity to see Matt Bellamy completely relaxed and unguarded while wrapped up in his thoughts.  
  
Matt tentatively made his way over to his grand black piano. He seemed unsure about his intentions, though, and so he circled it for a few moments, his eyes not leaving its sleek, shiny surface. Then he came to halt, still a few inches away from the instrument. As he started gnawing on his lip Dom also saw the longing glistening in his blues. For a second the drummer stopped breathing.This was such a private and important moment that he suddenly felt incredibly bad about watching it. He didn’t want to break it either, though, and so he stayed in silent limbo.  
  
The singer extended a cautious hand towards the piano and slowly put his fingers on its strong, wooden body. A quiet exhale escaped his lips and he closed his eyes, apparently going through a mess of thoughts and emotions. Then he shook his head and smiled almost sadly when he caressed his ‘friend’ ever so lovingly. This seemed to mark the end of the moment and so Dom quickly turned his eyes back to his book, pretending to be so engrossed by it that he hadn’t noticed Matt’s presence, either.  
  
“Oh. Sorry, didn’t know you were here,” Matt almost squeaked in surprise.  
  
“What?” Dom mumbled and looked up at his friend. “Oh. Since when’re  _you_  here?”  
  
“Just… erm, walked in. Care for some… Mario Kart?” Ah, distraction. That was a plan of action Dom could get on board with.  
  
“Sure,” he nodded, eager not to let the awkwardness take over their evening.

___

 

_Teignmouth, 02.01.2014_

  
A loud clash of thunder woke Dom from his peaceful nap. He yawned, stretching languidly, and turned onto his side. Another rumble sounded from outside and he left the bed to push the curtains aside to get a peek outside his window. Dark clouds hung low in the sky, but occasionally blinding lightning illuminated the black firmament. The wind was so strong that the downpour almost sounded like tiny stones beating at the glass.  
  
The weather was downright awful and Dom wished for nothing more than to stay in bed for the remainder of the day. Crawling back under his blanket to do just that he spotted a small piece of paper being propped up on top of his phone on the bedside table. He unfolded it and immediately recognised Matt’s untidy scrawl.  
  
 _Gone to the pier. Thunderstorm seems huge. See you later. M_  
  
Dom smiled to himself and dropped the paper back onto his nightstand. Scrapping his plans to stay inside for the day, he got up and stretched again before he picked up his clothes and went to the bathroom. He took a quick shower and hurried with his beauty routine so he could leave as quickly as possible. He tied his new leopard print scarf around his neck and grabbed his coat before he ran out and hurried over to the pier.  
  
Sure enough he could make out a lone person standing at the railings on a raised platform. Even from afar he knew it was Matt, no one was mad enough to be outside in this weather.  
  
“There you are,” he said when he finally arrived at his bandmate’s side, leaning against the railing.  
  
“’Course,” he said. “Wanted to get a better view of the storm.”  
  
“Makes sense. You love storms, after all,” Dom commented and looked Matt over. His hands immediately shot out to the lapels of the brunette’s coat. “And of course you couldn’t dress yourself properly. You’re gonna get sick in this weather.”  
  
A childish whine escaped Matt’s lips when the blonde took off his leopard printed scarf and wrapped it around the singer’s neck.  
  
“Dom! I can’t be seen like this!”  
  
“You’ll manage, you big baby,” Dom grinned at him, and, for good measure, gave Matt a big smooch on the cheek. The singer, in turn, pretended to be sick.  
  
“Are you done now, Mother Howard?”  
  
They both knew that Matt’s annoyance was faked. He’d never admit it, but he enjoyed being mothered by Dom every once in a while, and Dom also knew that Matt didn’t find leopard print as horrible as he pretended to. Honestly, the man had been living with him for months now, and would have left him long ago if animal print truly disgusted him as much.  
  
They watched the waves clash against the concrete wall of the pier in silence, appreciating the atmosphere around them. The sky looked almost black and the sea didn’t look much different. If he hadn’t known any better Dom could have sworn the sky and the sea had become one black entity, ready to swallow the world. The image was constantly interrupted by flashes of lightning followed by the deep rumbling of thunder that shook not only the railing he was holding onto but the very ground underneath his feet. It was utterly terrifying and yet fantastic at the same time.  
  
Wind and water hit their faces forcefully, but Dom didn’t have the heart to tell Matt to head back home. Not when the singer looked at the sea with big, excited eyes that Dom hadn’t seen in such a long time. He watched Matt’s profile in peace while he was transfixed by the pure force of nature. There was a hint of childish glee in Matt’s eyes that made Dom want to kiss him and then kiss him some more, but instead he stepped behind the singer and enveloped him from behind, his hands splaying out on the fluffy coat covering a flat stomach. One of Matt’s hands left the railing and laid on top of Dom’s, squeezing it softly. It was intimate, the whole setting, and something Dom wouldn’t have thought possible after  _The Summer_. But here they were, and 3 little words threatened to escape his mouth, Dom only barely being able to contain them.  _Not yet._  He bit his lip and turned his attention back to the crashing waves.  
  
“This is lovely.”  
  
Dom nodded in agreement and continued to watch the water underneath them until he realised that Matt’s attention wasn’t on the water or the sky anymore, his head turned towards Dom.  
  
“Oh.”  
  
They stared at one another and Dom’s face inched forward ever so slightly until their noses almost touched. His eyes closed on their own accord and a breathy sigh escaped his lips, not daring to close the space between them just yet.  
  
The moment was broken when another wave clashed against the pier, this time so hard that the water splashed over the railing and soaked the 2 of them, making them jump apart. While Dom squealed loudly (not like a girl, thank you very much) Matt just cackled like an over-excited child.  
  
“Please, let’s go back,” Dom whined. His clothes were drenched and his hair was a mess. In other words, he couldn’t be seen like this outside.  
  
“In a moment. First I need to do this.”  
  
Dom was just about to ask Matt what he was talking about when the singer took a step towards him so they were again face to face, and lightly pressed his lips to the corner of the blonde’s mouth. The state of his hair momentarily forgotten, his body froze in shock at first before joy took over, and he had to grip the railing harder to make sure he was still rooted in reality and that Matt had really done what Dom had wanted to do just a few seconds ago. Just as quickly as it had happened Matt had already pulled away and took quick strides away from the pier.  
  
“Let’s go then!” he shouted over the rain.  
  
The taller man could only nod slowly and stare at him some more, until Matt cocked his head in that very typical Matt way that told you he thought you were losing the plot. Then a grin spread over his lips and he caught up with Matt, pushing him slightly before he started to run towards their place, the singer following shortly behind.

___

  
Once home they had quickly stripped off their wet clothes and taken turns with who’d use the shower. Matt was the last of the 2, so Dom prepared them a quick snack and then settled on the sofa, flipping through TV channels to find a suitable programme to watch.  
  
His plans for a relaxed evening in front of the telly were destroyed, however, when lightning illuminated the whole house, followed by another earth shaking rumble, and the lights turned off. Dumbly, he pressed the buttons on the remote to make sure that yes, indeed, it wouldn’t turn on again.  
  
“Shit. Power cut, no telly for us,” he shouted up to the bathroom.  
  
“That’s okay, I’m sure we’ll find other stuff to pass the time.”  
  
When Matt finally left the bathroom Dom had set a couple of candles around the living room to give them at least some light. It wasn’t much, but at least you could navigate around without hitting your toes on a cupboard or the damn piano. Not that it had happened to Dom prior, no, he only worried that Matt would break one of his feet. Again. When he was done with his handiwork he turned around to look at Matt who’d been lounging on the sofa, watching him work instead of lighting some candles himself.  
  
He crossed his arms in mock annoyance and said, “You could have helped me, you know? Would have gone a lot faster.”  
  
“It’s not like we’ve got anything to do tonight anyway.” Matt shrugged. “Besides, do you really want me to hold anything with fire in my hands?”  
  
Dom thought about it. “No, probably not.”  
  
“See.”  
  
They settled down and watched videos on Dom’s laptop that was charged, thankfully. Another positive progression Dom could write down in his books; whenever they were sitting together now they were basically huddled together as if the seating place only held barely enough space for the 2 of them. The drummer couldn’t help but enjoy the little contact of their shoulders touching or their heads bumping when they fell asleep after another long telly night. Tonight was no different, with Matt pressing his back into his side, the laptop placed on the coffee table in front of them. Feeling bold, his arm snaked around the small body and pulled him tighter, Matt’s body going rigid for a moment before he relaxed, and his head fell against the blonde’s shoulder. Dom pulled the blanket surrounding them higher and snuggled into it, effectively snuggling against Matt as well.  
  
The laptop battery couldn’t last forever, though, and just before the end of the film the screen turned black, and 2 men shouted in annoyance.  
  
“Your laptop is shit, seriously,” Matt commented and threw one of his socks at the offending piece of technology.  
  
Picking it up in disgust, Dom smelled at the sock before he threw it back at Matt. “Is not! She’s just an old lady and can’t make use of her whole potential anymore.”  
  
“She?” A brunette eyebrow cocked up in the dark. “That’s cute, Dom. Always knew you had a thing for older women, and she’s providing you with porn as well. Perfect girlfriend for you, really.”  
  
“Piss off, you twat,” the blonde grumbled, but there was no heat behind the insult.  
  
Just as expected, Matt assaulted him then, trying to pin him to the sofa. Dom evaded easily and grabbed a bony shoulder to press the singer down instead, who immediately clawed and kicked at him. They went back and forth like that until they slipped off the sofa, the blanket sliding down with them. Sandwiched between the sofa and the coffee table, Dom couldn’t escape from Matt anymore, who sat on his stomach triumphantly. He sighed in defeat and awaited his fate, his heartbeat picking up when he watched Matt’s face coming closer. Tiny lips touched his and his eyes closed almost on their own accord.  
  
“Is this okay?” Matt asked.  
  
In reply, Dom put his left hand on the singer’s neck and pulled him down into another kiss.  
  
To steady himself Matt put down his underarms on both sides of Dom’s head, repositioning his body so he could lie almost flat on the drummer. His tongue peaked out and pushed against Dom’s lips who opened up immediately and let Matt explore his mouth. The singer dominated the kiss easily, Dom not even putting up a fight and instead just enjoying the feeling of Matt kissing him again. He’d been waiting so long for this moment, months since he’d last had the opportunity to taste the singer’s mouth, to feel him like this. Almost unconsciously the hand on his neck moved to caress the tender skin and his legs opened up to let the brunette fall between them.  
  
Too soon Matt pulled away and licked his lips, Dom transfixed with the motion. He wanted more now that he’d had a taste and remembered what he’d been missing out on for the past half year. And going by the bulge he could feel slightly rubbing against his inner thigh he guessed the feeling was mutual.  
  
However, the brunette disentangled himself from Dom and got to his feet, holding out a hand for Dom to take. He seemed to hesitate for a second but then he smiled again.  
  
“Come with me.”  
  
Interest piqued, Dom let go of his previous thoughts for now and took the offered hand, letting Matt pull him up. The singer didn’t let go and pulled him over to the piano, sitting down on the stool. He patted the spot next to him and Dom sat down, nerves exploding with excitement and anticipation.  
  
Without another word Matt placed his fingers on top of the keys, not yet pressing down hard enough to make a sound, but his intention was clear. He stared at his hands in thought, and Dom couldn’t help but lay a hand on the singer’s back. He didn’t have to force himself just to prove anything to the blonde.  
  
“You don’t have to-“  
  
But Matt did. His fingers pressed down and a soft melody filled the room, slow at first, then picking up pace until it slowed down again. Dom shuddered, shock clearly written over his features, and his gaze moved to Matt’s face. He was in deep concentration, his eyes fixated on the keys in front of him. He looked a lot like the old Matt, all professional and perfection, until Dom inspected his hands. There was a slight tremble present that you didn’t see unless you looked closely, however it didn’t stop the singer from creating this wonderful melody.  
  
The song seemed to come to an end, but instead of stopping there Matt tinkered with the notes and let it flow into a familiar song. Dom nearly stopped breathing when the intro chord of Starlight filled the room.  
  
He remembered standing in Matt’s house in London, holding the sheet music to his chest the day after his abduction. He remembered the pain and fear he’d felt in that instant, but he also remembered the love and affection he’d always felt for this man. Maybe the song was forever tainted with the events, but it also spoke of the strength of their friendship and their belief in each other.  
  
He felt incredibly emotional then, and couldn’t help but press his nose into the soft dark strands next to him. He hugged Matt tightly, who proceeded to wrap up the song before he turned to hug the blonde back.  
  
“You arse,” Dom whispered, his voice choking on emotion. “Since when are you playing again?”  
  
“Not that long, honestly. Went over to Ian’s place a couple of times to practice guitar. As for the piano, though… Only since last night after you went to bed. Been playing with the thought for a long time now, but up until then I just couldn’t bring myself to sit down and try again.”  
  
“Wait, Ian? You’ve been seeing Ian?”  
  
“Yup.” Matt nodded affirmatively. “Taught him a couple of things, like  _you_  promised him I would.”  
  
Dom hugged his body closer and squeezed his waist affectionately. “You’re playing again, Jesus. And only last night? I think I’m gonna cry I’m so happy.”  
  
“Who’s the big baby now?” That earned him a punch to the side and Matt faux yelped loudly.  
  
“No, but honestly,” Dom whispered. “I’m so, so happy. Why didn’t you tell me?”  
  
“Well, I… I wasn’t sure if I’d even be able to do this again and didn’t want to get your hopes up over nothing.” Matt stroked one, two, three keys almost lovingly and bit his lip in thought.  
  
“This is not nothing. This is amazing!” His eyes sparkled with excitement and relief as his eyes drifted from the keyboard back to the singer’s face.  
  
“It is… isn’t it? I mean, being able to sit here and make music again… It feels like a huge step to me, somehow. And I know that it’s also very important to you, so… I wanted you to be the first to know. Obviously, there’s still a long way to go.” The brunette stole a glance at the man beside him, his fingers still resting on the keys.  
  
“It’s a mighty step, Matt!” Dom’s face was positively alight with happiness. “And now that you’ve taken it, I’ll be there to help you with the rest of the way.”  
  
Matt smiled softly at that, his eyes so full of love and gratefulness that Dom felt as if he was going to pass out any moment. He felt overwhelmed all of sudden, and wished this wasn’t a dream. He didn’t know what made him happier; the fact that Matt seemed to truly get better, and would maybe one day be the same old person Dom had come to know and love, or the implication of Matt’s previous words and attitude.  
  
“Maybe I’ll be able to compose again soon. I’d love to write for us again. For Chris, me… and especially for you.”  
  
“Are you…” he tried to find the words to take the seriousness out of the moment. “Are you trying to seduce me, Mr Bellamy?”  
  
“Maybe I am,” the singer drawled and drew circles on the drummer’s chest. Dom liked the return of this confident Matt. “Is it working?”  
  
The blonde simply nodded before he pulled Matt’s face to his, smashing their mouths together. For a split second Matt seemed frozen in surprise and Dom was already getting worried that he’d maybe misinterpreted the signs, but then the singer’s lips softened under the pressure and he returned the kiss in earnest. Relief flooded the blonde’s every cell and something different caught fire in his belly. Something more instinctual. How long hadn’t he felt that fire? It had been far too long… Still, he was a bit reluctant to let it take over his actions. He still wanted to be a bit cautious with what he demanded of Matt.  
  
Said singer, though, had already turned around on the stool to face Dom completely. His hands had wandered to the back of his neck and were absently toying with a strand of stray hair at his nape. A small but purposeful tongue started poking at his lips. Willingly the drummer opened his mouth and sighed softly against Matt’s lips. His fingers had found their way to the singer’s waist and, now getting the tiniest bit impatient, pulled at him to get the warmth and feeling of that certain body closer to his own.  
  
Matt grinned and obliged the silent plea by sliding a few inches towards Dom, their knees now awkwardly knocking together. He giggled quietly and shook his head while his fingers bunched up the shirt on Dom’s shoulders.  
  
“This is…”  
  
“Great? Awesome? Finally happening?” the blonde suggested.  
  
“... a far too small stool for two people.”  
  
“Oh, you want me to go, then?”  
  
“Definitely not.” Matt emphasised his words by slinging his legs over Dom’s thighs, effectively locking him in a vice-like grip, and pulling him closer for another heated kiss.  
  
“Hoped so,” the blonde mumbled into the kiss and put his hands on the small of Matt’s back. Bit by bit he tugged the smaller man into his lap until there was virtually no space between them anymore, their chests pressed together and their mouths seemingly inseparable for the moment.  
  
This went on for a few more minutes, their bodies literally glued together with their crotches teasingly rubbing against each other. Suddenly Dom felt confined. Confined not by Matt and his death-grip on him, but by the fabric that was still clinging to his skin. And by extension to Matt’s skin.  
  
“Space… we… need to...” he started, but got cut short by the brunette in his lap.  
  
“I’ve been telling you that for ages and now you’re suddenly starting to listen? When I’m trying to get you naked?”  
  
Dom’s body erupted into a giggling fit. “I’m not talking about space-space, you idiot. I just think we should find a more comfortable place to continue this.”  
  
“Oh.” That silenced the singer, if only momentarily. “Then… let’s go upstairs?”  
  
“Is that even a question?” Dom grinned widely and squeezed his lover’s bum with both hands.  
  
“Not really, no,” Matt replied with a sly smile and already tried to get up when Dom’s arms encircled him. He raised his eyebrows in question, with a grin already tugging at his lips again.  
  
The drummer scooped him up into his arms and one swift motion later they were both back on their feet. Matt’s head was swirling a bit, as he hadn’t expected to be handled around like that. He steadied himself with both his hands on Dom’s shoulders, giggling some more.  
  
“Let’s go upstairs,” Dom said with more determination than Matt had brought forward in his quest before.  
  
“Yeah,” the singer nodded and took Dom’s hand.  
  
The way upstairs, however, wasn’t as easy and quick as they’d thought. There were entangled limbs and wild kisses and the odd piece of clothing getting lost. There was stumbling and laughing and moaning. Then there was a door being opened and banged shut again. And then Matt was being pushed against said door and trapped between it and a very turned-on Dom.  
  
“I need you,” the drummer whispered. He sucked the brunette’s neck, leaving a dark mark right above his pulsepoint.  
  
The singer’s trousers were already dangling between his legs, making it nearly impossible for him to take a step without introducing his face to the floor. So instead his hands busied themselves with undoing Dom’s belt while the blonde’s fingers restlessly roamed over his ribs and abdomen. They’d done this plenty of times before, but it had never quite been as emotionally charged as it promised to be now. Where there’d been mere physical attraction and the need for release before, there was now  _meaning_.  
  
“I need you so much,” Dom repeated, sounding almost choked. His mouth had wandered to Matt’s shoulder, where a tiny scar was visible from the gun wound he’d sustained at Suzanne’s. He kissed it softly before he licked at it. He licked along his shoulder, then his collarbone and, finally, the middle of the small chest in front of him.  
  
The singer had chosen that exact moment to let his hand slip into Dom’s now opened trousers and cup the hardness he found there straining against the fabric of his boxers. All emotions bubbling in him momentarily forgotten, the blonde couldn’t help but moan against Matt’s body, the smaller man laughing softly.  
  
His fingers ghosted to the waistband of the offending piece of clothing. Dom’s breath hitched when Matt pulled his boxers down ever so slowly, his cock springing free and demanding more of Matt’s attention. The singer obliged, his hand wrapping around the hard flesh in an instant and Dom could do nothing but moan loudly. With every twitch of Matt’s wrist he could feel himself getting closer to the edge. It had been way too long since he’d felt this wonderful feeling.  
  
After another firm stroke, Dom finally found the willpower to grip Matt’s wrist and stop him. He was punished with a patented Bellamy Pout, so he cupped the singer’s face with both hands and kissed him deeply.  
  
“Bed. Now.”  
  
Matt bit his lip and grinned before he nodded his head and stepped out of his trousers. He turned around and made his way over to the bed - without giving his lover another look - with such a graciousness that Dom could do nothing but stare at the hypnotising sway of his hips. He licked his lips.  
  
“You comin’?” Matt asked and quirked an eyebrow at him. He stretched out on the mattress on his back, one arm crossed behind his head, the other lying on his tummy and ankles dangling over the edge of the bed.  
  
Dom nodded, transfixed, and stumbled his way towards the bed. His eyes fell onto the pale expanse of skin that stretched over the singer’s ribs and stomach, sinews and muscles moving underneath. He truly was beautiful like this, all stretched out for Dom to worship him.  
  
His shins hit the bed, but he remained upright, unable to tear his eyes away from Matt just yet. His gaze roamed further down to the dark, wiry hair that led to his cock which lay hard and heavy on top of his left thigh. He almost salivated at the sight.  
  
The movement of Matt’s hand rubbing at his stomach made him snap out of his trance and look up. He didn’t look so cocky and sure of himself anymore. Dom mentally slapped himself, of course it made him nervous. Even though they were both equally naked, Matt had other baggage that weighed him down.  
  
So Dom hummed and let himself fall forward to lie beside the singer, slinging one arm around his torso and pressing their bodies together again. They both hissed when their erections rubbed together deliciously and Matt moved his hands to his bum to press him even tighter to himself. Their mouths met for a wet, open-mouthed kiss and Dom used the chance to lick the roof of Matt’s mouth.  
  
When they parted they both felt a bit light headed and breathless. Dom rolled on top of Matt who, almost instinctively, wrapped his legs around his waist. Dom could feel how he tried to steady himself. Maybe he was just that tiniest bit too self-aware, but the blonde was dead-set on changing that, on distracting Matt just enough to forget himself.  
  
“It’s okay,” he whispered soothingly and leant down to press a soft kiss to the singer’s belly. Then he continued on his way further down, covering every bit of skin he could reach with small kisses. It didn’t take him too long until he felt the hardness of Matt’s erection pressing slightly into his chin. He glanced upwards, smiling at Matt who’d been looking at him wide-eyed the whole time. Then he wrapped one hand around the brunette’s cock and leant further down. He licked one long trail along its underside, forcing another shudder from the body under his hands. Then he pressed a kiss to his head and smiled, once again, up at Matt who’d thrown his head back into the pillow. The tremors in his lover’s body seemed to recede and he finally let his instincts take control of his actions. Only the tiniest bit pleased with himself, Dom moved up Matt’s body again, biting and licking his way back to his lover’s lips.  
  
“Bloody tease,” Matt mumbled under his breath, but let his hands slide up and down the drummer’s bare back. “You know, I’ve missed this.”  
  
“Me kissing your dick”, Dom grinned cheekily.  
  
“Nah, that was kind of a sappy move on your part,” Matt replied nonchalantly and kissed him again. The drummer only rolled his eyes at that. “I mean this, all of this. You and me.”  
  
“Oh, that’s not sappy at all,” he said teasingly. Matt pouted at him and Dom went back to smiling softly. “No, seriously, I missed this, too.”  
  
“Better,” Matt nodded, obviously more satisfied with that reply. “Maybe we should do it more often then.”  
  
“Well, I definitely wouldn’t mind.”  
  
“Then get on with it.”  
  
That pulled a laugh from both of them and Dom silenced the singer with yet another kiss, their bodies shaking against each other. Then he sat up again and leant over to the nightstand. He pulled it open purposefully and retrieved a bottle of lube alongside a condom from it. He dropped the condom on the mattress next to the pillow and squeezed some lube on the fingers of his left hand. Matt smiled slyly and spread his legs further so Dom could sit between them properly.  
  
There was really no need to ask if he was ready. Matt couldn’t have made that any clearer. Dom knew he wouldn’t break under him, there was more strength in him than he let on. Since his nervousness had subsided, Dom didn’t want to make him feel self-conscious again by treating him too carefully. It wouldn’t be the best idea to make him feel like Dom considered him to be unstable still, anyway.  
  
So he bent forward, giving Matt’s cock another lick while taking him into his lube-free hand and starting to stroke, more firmly this time. This earned him an unexpectedly loud moan and he grinned as he took him into his mouth. Matt arched his back and immediately both his hands were in Dom’s hair, trying to guide him. But this wasn’t about release, at least not just yet. Still, Matt wasn’t the most patient person in general, so why should he be in bed?  
  
The fingers of Dom’s left hand circled the brunette’s small opening and even at the first touch he felt another tremor going through the demanding body of his lover. Oh, this was going to be so good… Without further warning he eased one finger into him, then another, all the while massaging him gently. Matt’s breath caught in his throat and, apparently involuntarily, he pressed himself down a bit. Dom let him slip out of his mouth, but resumed to stroke him.  
  
Fingernails scratched his scalp almost painfully and that spurred him on even further, so he added a third finger. Suddenly his shoulders were locked between two surprisingly strong legs as he bent and twisted his fingers inside his lover, seemingly having found the exact right spot.  
  
“Dom,” the singer moaned. “Enough!”  
  
“Enough of what?” he asked innocently, giving his fingers another twist.  
  
“That!” Matt yelped and gave him a scolding look. “Up here. Now.”  
  
“Ever so demanding,” the blonde smirked, but obliged. Slowly he pulled his fingers out of Matt which earned him another, almost desperate moan. Two hands pulled him up, tugged at his shoulders, and generally tried to make him do exactly what they wanted. “And so  _impatient_.”  
  
“Don’t be so fucking smug, Howard,” Matt growled and pulled him down for a kiss when they were finally at eye level again.  
  
“Your wish is my command,” he replied, smugness still written all over his face.  
  
Matt’s left hand left his face and instead started to roam across the mattress beside him almost frantically. Dom watched his attempt at finding the condom for a moment, genuinely trying not to burst out laughing, but it was such an amusing sight. Trying not to be too obvious about it, he let his hand slide down Matt’s pale arm and, when it reached the smaller man’s hand, he guided it towards the small, plastic wrapped object. Triumphantly, Matt smiled as he fetched it and practically shoved it into Dom’s face.  
  
“Not willing to do any of the work yourself, are you?” Dom chuckled and had the pack already half opened when Matt snatched it back from him. With a look of utter and nearly ridiculous determination he tore the wrapper open and pulled the condom out. He leant up on his elbows and took Dom’s cock in his hands (which had been neglected for so long now that even this touch made him hiss) and rolled the condom on in up to no time.  
  
“Come on now,” Matt almost wailed, his right hand giving the blonde’s cock a few desperate strokes. “Please Dom, don’t make me beg.”  
  
What the singer obviously didn’t realise was that, technically, he already  _was_  begging. But no need to mention that now. So instead he pushed Matt back into the pillows and followed him to lie on top. Almost immediately, Matt lifted his legs onto his shoulders. Dom grinned.  
Matt guided him a bit and without hesitation positioned him at his opening. Dom gave him one last questioning look and once more the frontman nodded his head yes.  
  
That was all he needed. Almost aggravatingly slowly the drummer pushed into the warmth his lover offered him so willingly. Matt squeezed his eyes shut at the penetration, but the noise that escaped his lips when Dom stopped for a second spoke of lust and randiness, not discomfort or pain. Shit, he looked beautiful like that. Matt would probably loathe him for the thought, but that didn’t make it less true. From the tiny creases of tension on his forehead over his slightly disproportionate nose right down to his thin but demanding lips. To Dom this, right now, was the most beautiful face in the world. And when Matt opened his eyes again, that fire having blown his pupils so wide that their blue was nothing but a thin, shimmering ring surrounding perfect blackness, he couldn’t stop himself.  
  
“God, I’ve wanted this for so long,” he groaned lowly and gently bit the singer’s neck.  
  
In response a deep moan tumbled over Matt’s lips and he clenched around Dom. The blonde let his eyes fall shut for a second and reveled in the moment. What they both really needed was to enjoy each other and that was what Dom wanted to do. His eyes fluttered open again as Matt stroked one hand through his hair and leant up to bite his lip teasingly. Dom dove down again and pushed his tongue into his lover’s mouth almost demandingly.  
  
Matt’s mouth responded immediately and while their bodies remained still, their mouths moved in sync. Dom slowly started to buck his hips, drawing another moan from Matt - one of those that he’d missed for so long. It was a delicious feeling, finally being with his lover again. They hadn’t done this in forever and somehow it felt different from what Dom remembered of their countless physical encounters from before. Matt was… different. He wasn’t all sharp angles and determination anymore. There was a certain softness to him now and it made Dom unsure of how to handle it. Where Matt had been almost competitive before, he was more compliant now. No… no, compliant wasn’t the right word. But maybe  _giving_  was.  
  
Dom kept his movements relatively careful for the moment because he thought they both needed some time to re-adjust, despite his intention not to let Matt feel weak. Matt’s hands roamed over his back, kneading his muscles here and there and eventually coming to rest on his bum. They didn’t push him, there was no real pressure behind the touch. It was more like… friendly guidance?  
  
Unsure, Dom looked down into Matt’s eyes. There it was. That old sparkle that spoke of mischief and lust and slight impatience, all at the same time. And still it was somehow different. The brunette gave him a crooked smile and kissed him again, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. It was a gesture meant to reassure him, to tell him that he was okay and that there was no need to worry. It was also one to spur him on a little, though, at least if the light scratching of Matt’s teeth was anything to go by.  
  
So Dom thrust a little deeper, leaving his own need more room and letting a bit of his self-control go in the process. Automatically Matt let his head fall back into the pillow, eyes closed and lips circling around a silent  _oh_. Dom’s mouth lowered to one of his nipples and he sucked the bud hard, eliciting another moan from the singer. He licked around the rim wetly before his teeth scraped over the skin.  
  
“So good, Dom. So fucking good. More.”  
  
And suddenly Dom realised what made the difference. This wasn’t just fucking for the sake of fucking anymore. They weren’t best friends who liked to fool around anymore. There was more to it now. Dom loved him. And there was nothing more perfect than making love to the one person who meant the world to you.  
  
He moaned loudly at the realisation and threw his head back, his hips snapping on their own accord and his cock going deeper than before.  
  
“Fuck!”  
  
He let himself fall forward and leant his forearms on each side of Matt’s head, his lips catching the singer’s for a deep kiss. He wanted - no, needed - to show his feelings, show the singer just how much this - they - meant to him.  
  
“Matt, I- I-”  
  
It wasn’t enough. Words couldn’t express what he felt. He needed to show. He needed to be closer.  
  
He let himself slip out of Matt who looked at him in utter confusion.  
  
“Come on, Matt, roll onto your side.”  
  
The brunette obliged without protest and Dom lined himself up behind him, re-entering his body while his arms pulled Matt close to his chest. The smaller man pushed his arse backwards to get him deeper. His right leg hitched between Matt’s legs to give him leverage, and he pushed in deeper than he went before, hitting  _just the right spot_  and pulling an ecstatic scream from his partner.  
  
He giggled softly into the back of Matt’s head and repeated the action with much the same result, his hand tightening around the slim waist to keep him in position. His hips moved faster and faster, losing their rhythm the closer he got to the edge. He kissed Matt’s shoulder sloppily before Matt’s face turned toward him and his arms slung around to pull him into a kiss.  
  
“I’m close,” Matt whispered against his lips between laboured breaths.  
  
Dom nodded in agreement and joined their hands on the singer’s cock. “Good. Let go.”  
  
It didn’t take much more than a few firm strokes of their joint hands and a tender bite to his neck until Matt did just that, he let go. A shaking moan from deep in his throat tumbled over his lips as he spilled all over their hands, his stomach and the formerly pristine sheets. Although Dom was just as occupied with his own need, he couldn’t help but steal a glance at his lover’s face. Right now he was ecstasy personified, with his eyes closed and his mouth hanging open. The sight was probably what made the drummer reach the edge a bit quicker than he’d anticipated and so his own climax crushed down on him without much of a warning. He pressed his chest close to Matt’s back, trying to steady himself while the room around them seemed to be about to tip over. Or was it just his head? Well, who cared anyway?  
  
All the while the body glued to his was shuddering, and with one hand clutching his chest he could feel Matt’s heartbeat and heavy breathing, both matching his own. For the moment they both remained quite, still getting down from their respective highs.  
  
Was it the right time to tell him everything that was bubbling inside him? Dom wanted to shout from the rooftops how much he loved him, how much he wanted to be with him until the end of time. But then Matt turned around, letting Dom slip out of him, and gave him a sloppy smile before catching his lips in a kiss. No. Not yet. Not when Matt was still coping with everything and trying to find his way back. The feeling of silky skin against his own, hot air breathed on his neck, and an exploring tongue probing his lips distracted him enough for the time being.  
  
He couldn’t help himself, however, and grinned against Matt’s mouth. “That was… amazing.”  
  
“God, we’re not doing the ‘how good was the sex’ talk, are we?” Matt groaned in feigned exasperation.  
  
“You really are a mood killer,” Dom laughed easily and propped himself up on his elbow, leaning over Matt and reaching out with one hand.  
  
“Oi, what are you doing? Way too much movement!” He tried to push the blonde back into the sheets, but his limbs were too relaxed to obey to any serious action plans.  
  
Dom laughed softly at that, but still failed to get a hold of the drawer he was reaching for. With a resigned sigh he rolled out of the bed, tossed the condom into the bin under the window, and went over to quickly rummage through the bedside table. “Do you have any tissues in here?”  
  
“No, why?”  
  
“Because you came all over yourself and I- Oh, no. No no no no!” He had turned around to see Matt rubbing his chest with the blanket and instantly jumped towards the singer to snatch the blanket away from him.  
  
Too late, however, as Matt was seemingly finished, a wicked and proud grin on his face.  
  
“Ugh, gross! That is absolutely disgusting, Matt.”  
  
“You’re free to leave this bed, sweetheart,” the smaller man said sweetly and turned on his back. His gaze was expectantly locked on Dom’s.  
  
The blonde in question sighed and surrendered, slowly crawling to his side. “Can we at least turn it around? Please?” The yearning to stay close to Matt was immense, but Dom’s sense of cleanliness couldn’t be ignored, not even - or especially - in this case.  
  
Once the blanket had been taken care off Dom settled beside Matt with just a small amount of disgust still evident on his face which quickly evaporated as soon as bony fingers wrapped around his shoulders. Soon enough the action was followed by Matt’s head settling on his chest and he sighed in happiness, his own arms wrapping around the tiny body.  
  
They didn’t talk and instead just enjoyed the calmness of the moment while their bodies cooled off from their previous activities. Dom felt at ease with his love so close to him, as if there was not a single worry in the world anymore. Absentmindedly, his hand stroked the soft skin of the brunette’s back with featherlike touches.  
  
“I’m pretty knackered,” Matt suddenly whispered into his skin, the vibrations of his voice tickling him. He giggled softly before he bent his head to place a kiss to the top of the mop of brown hair.  
  
“Let’s sleep for a bit, yeah?”  
  
No reply came forth. Matt had already fallen asleep.


	17. Chapter 17

Soft light spilled into the bedroom, a single ray of sunshine hitting Dom’s face and making him grunt and throw an arm over his head. He could feel the light pressure of Matt’s upper body on top of his, the low exhale of his breath hitting his shoulder, and couldn’t help but sigh in content.  
  
Slowly cracking one lazy eye open, he turned his face downwards and was met with a shock of dark brown hair. He smiled in satisfaction and wrapped an arm around his lover, nuzzling his hair and closing his eyes again.  
  
He couldn’t believe last night had happened, but the snoring little lump weighing him into the mattress was proof enough. It felt… He didn’t even know how to name the feelings inside him, he just knew he was beyond happy and grateful. All the hardships, the pain, the sadness… They were still Matt and Dom, but at the same time he felt different. Everything felt as if it had changed while nothing really had. It was confusing and yet exciting. He wondered what would happen now, if it was the start of something new.  
  
“Isn’t it a bit early for you to think so hard?”  
  
He opened his eyes and was greeted by azure blue shining brightly. The sunlight only hit a small part of Matt’s face, but it still made him look divine to the point that it made Dom’s heart skip a beat. Once he knew that he had the blonde’s attention, Matt’s lips stretched into a wide grin, one wonky tooth sticking out from the rest.  
  
Almost automatically Dom’s left hand moved to cup his jaw and pull him down into a soft kiss. It was unlike those they’d shared the previous night, this one not born out of need or desperation. Instead it was a simple gesture of love and affection.  
  
Once they parted, Dom’s eyes crinkled and his lips turned slightly upwards. “Good morning.”  
  
“Good morning to you, too,” Matt whispered and rolled off Dom. The blonde pouted, but was satisfied when Matt instead lay next to him. He moved onto his side and tucked his arm under his head. Now, their faces were only inches apart.  
  
They simply looked at each other, their breathing the only sound disturbing the otherwise quiet peacefulness that surrounded them. At one point Dom’s free hand reached out to gently trace the skin of Matt’s bare upper arm, before it travelled downwards to thumb his wrist and, finally, hold his hand. The singer squeezed back lightly and pulled their hands up to lay them between their bodies.  
  
“Are you okay?” Dom broke the silence.  
  
Matt hummed in reply, and Dom’s worries evaporated almost immediately. For one, his reply took the appropriate amount of time - not too long to be unsure, not too quickly to be panicky. For another, Matt actually kept eye contact, a sign that he wasn’t bullshitting Dom.  
  
“I am,” he said and confirmed his earlier reply. “Are you?”  
  
Dom grinned at that. “Fucking fantastic, actually.”  
  
He leaned forward to kiss their joined hands, smiling softly as he did so. He wanted to blurt out all his feelings here and now, but he somehow felt that it wasn’t the right time. Which was weird, because he’d told Matt about his feelings twice now and this was probably the most romantic setting they’d ever been in. Love confessions were supposed to be romantic, no? So why did he feel like he should keep his mouth shut?  
  
Matt pushed their hands down so his head could move into the nook of Dom’s neck. He nuzzled the soft skin he found there and the blonde giggled lightly. A tiny pink tongue poked out to lick at the skin, and the giggle turned into a loud laugh.  
  
“That tickles, you dick!”  
  
“Sorry,” Matt apologised, but didn’t sound sorry at all. Nevertheless, he stopped his ministrations and instead lay quietly, his thumb tracing the palm of Dom’s hand still with his intertwined. The blonde untangled his fingers and moved his hand behind the small body of his lover, pushing it forward and effectively pulling him closer to his own.  
  
Once again he was hit with the urge to talk about what had happened between them last night, to find out where they were going from now on. But the courage to open his mouth didn’t come with that urge, and instead he hoped for Matt to start their talk. The man in question, however, remained quiet and Dom figured that that was the whole problem. He’d been nothing but vocal about his feelings from the beginning of when realisation had hit him. Matt on the other hand remained a mystery. Sure, he’d had vaguely told him about his own feelings that cold October night, but since then Matt hadn’t said anything about them. Dom guessed that yesterday and last night were a good indication, but he couldn’t say it with the certainty he had possessed before their whole ordeal, before Matt had changed.  
  
“Dom?”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“Can we sleep for a bit longer before we get up?”  
  
He managed to smile, even though Matt couldn’t see it anyway, and nodded, his chin bumping the top of Matt’s head. Their talk could wait, yes.  
  
“Sounds like a good plan to me.”

___

  
A few hours later Dom was carefully folding one of his favourite shirts on the bed. He’d already started packing while Matt was still under the shower. He smiled fondly at the memories of last night, but truth be told, he really craved a serious conversation with the singer. He needed to know that they both were in the same place here. At the same time he was also afraid of scaring his lover away so, once again, the drummer was in emotional limbo. This time, though, he was sure that Matt wanted something he wanted, too. There’d been clear indicators of that last night and this morning.  
  
“What are you smiling about, mate?”  
  
Dom turned around, a bit confused as he’d been so deeply in thought a second ago. “Nothing much, really,” he replied, smile still in place.  
  
“Ah, so just the usual post-sex grinning, I see,” Matt said and looked out of the window.  
  
“Probably,” Dom laughed quietly and proceeded to lay his shirt in the suitcase.  
  
Matt went over to his own bag with one hand firmly clasping the towel wrapped around his waist. Dom watched him bend down to get better access and used the chance to pull one end of the towel down. The singer yelped and jumped away quickly, and Dom grinned from one ear to the other. It was ridiculously entertaining to see the man he’d slept with last night, the man who’d been so divine and beautiful and perfect, now moving around awkwardly and being so easily riled up.  
  
“Not funny,” Matt cried out indignantly and quickly wrapped the towel back around his waist.  
  
“I don’t even know why you’re acting all coy. I know your body inside out by now,” Dom chuckled and sank down on the side of the bed.  
  
“Yeah, well… Doesn’t mean a man can’t try and keep up appearances,” Matt huffed and quickly stepped into his boxers.  
  
“Come on, what’s with the towel? Don’t tell me you’re suddenly embarrassed about showing your dick to me.”  
  
“No,” Matt whispered and busied himself with shrugging into his shirt. “I just want to get dressed without any interruption.”  
  
“Fine then.” Dom pouted at that, but let Matt have this his way.  
  
It was probably for the best if they got dressed soon, because Dom was dying to have that talk about their future plans. He knew he couldn’t do it while Matt was only partially dressed, the sight of even the tiniest bit of skin too distracting to form a coherent sentence. So he simply watched Matt putting on his socks and shrugging into a pair of jeans while he busied himself with folding the same pair of skinnies over and over again.  
  
“Listen…” Dom finally started as Matt stuffed his belongings into his suitcase.  
  
“It’ll be weird to go back now,” the singer mumbled, apparently having missed Dom’s conversation starter.  
  
Immediately thrown off his original plan the blonde asked, “How do you mean?”  
  
“I mean… this is it, isn’t it? Back to our lives in London. Trying to get back to serious writing and playing,” Matt mused while he sat down on his case to zip it shut.  
  
“Yeah, but you know that you’re not alone, right? I’ll be there and so will the others,” Dom replied and saw a soft smile spreading on Matt’s face almost immediately.  
  
“I know, yes…” He sighed. “And I really appreciate it, but you all have your own lives, too. I need to do this on my own, y’know? I’ll get used to the business again and living on my own will probably help-”  
  
“What?” Dom spluttered, almost glad that Matt was still too occupied with his packing to notice his obvious confusion. “What did you just say?”  
  
“I said that I appreciate it but you have your own lives.”  
  
“I know. But after that,” Dom clarified. “You said you were moving out?” This was the first time he’d heard about these plans.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Why?” he asked, clearly unsettled. He didn’t want Matt to leave.  
  
“It’s the next logical step, isn’t it? And it’s about time to get back on my own feet. If not now, then when?”  
  
Dom didn’t have an answer to that. Well, he  _did_  have an answer, but he didn’t think it would go down well. So he sat quiet and stared at his luggage, trying to find something to say. His clothes didn’t offer a single word. The singer actually looked a bit excited at the prospect of becoming independent again and how could Dom possibly hold it against him? But still… This wasn’t what he’d expected this conversation to go like at all.  
  
“I bet you’re happy to get me out of your hair after all this time.”  
  
“Umm…”  
  
“See, you’ll have more time to yourself again and won’t have to worry about me drinking out of the milk carton anymore.” Matt grinned and stuffed another shirt into his backpack. “Or my dirty underwear hanging over your lamp.”  
  
“Yeah… right…” Dom wasn’t able to form a more coherent answer to that without giving away his disappointment. And he didn’t want Matt to worry about him, not when he was finally so set on getting back into the saddle.  
  
He knew he didn’t have the right to feel as crushed as he did in that moment, he knew that he should have expected this. Matt was a strong person who’d always been proud of his independence. He should feel happy about the progress his friend made. But instead he felt… sad. Yes, it was as simple as that. Matt was oblivious to his mood change, though, and who could blame him? He was now facing the possibility of a new start and finally felt ready to take the leap.  
  
It was weird. While he’d been euphoric about every step Matt had taken to get his old life back, this one, the one that would make him  _himself_  again was the one Dom feared. That thought alone made him feel selfishly miserable. He wanted Matt to stay close, to implore their new dynamics further, and for Matt to need him. To make matters worse, he  _knew_  how egotistical that was. And still he was scared to let Matt go like this. Not because he thought he wasn’t ready, but because he craved his presence. Back in his own home he’d learn to live alone again, to deal with his everyday business on his own. He wouldn’t need Dom anymore.  
  
He sighed and turned back to his suitcase to finish his packing, his shoulders sagging and his mouth turned downwards. Matt didn’t seem to notice.

___

  
_London, 10.01.2014_  
  
“Hey guys, there you are!” Chris smiled widely at Dom and Matt who’d just entered the tiny café in the quiet side street, a long way from London’s busy shopping areas.  
  
“Hey mate.” Dom returned the smile in earnest. They hadn’t seen the bassist since New Year’s Eve as he’d chosen to stay in Teignmouth with his family. But now he’d taken a few days to visit before he’d return to their hometown once again. Since they didn’t yet know when they’d start working again, he spent as much time with Kelly and the kids as possible.  
  
They each got a short hug before they settled down. Dom stole a few glances at Matt who seemed to be very happy about seeing Chris, too. They had spent some time together over the past few days, but not nearly as much as they had before Matt had moved back to his own place about a week ago. Obviously, as he was busy settling in again and catching up with some close friends. There was still a certain amount of affection between them, casual and like second nature. But nothing close to what had happened in Teignmouth. Nothing that would indicate a change of feelings on Matt’s side, and Dom didn’t feel like forcing anything. He’d been nothing but patient and understanding, so, in his stubborn mind, it was finally time for Matt to take the initiative.  
  
“So how are you two faring these days?” the bassist asked and leant back in his comfortable chair, shooting them curious looks. Dom knew what Chris’ true intention behind the question was. Because he  _knew_  about Dom’s feelings.  
  
“Oh, quite good actually.” Matt grinned and snuck a look into the menu before he looked back up at their bandmate again. “Been meeting some friends, done some reading, and started redecorating my house.”  
  
Dom knew exactly that it was a euphemism for covering up the last remains of the desperate fight that’d taken place there. He’d been there and actually done most of the painting himself. Matt wasn’t quite there yet. Not completely.  
  
“Sounds great,” Chris replied and waved at one of the waitresses with a friendly smile.  
  
She immediately came over and pulled out her tiny notebook. “What can I get you guys?”  
  
Dom could feel Matt tensing up the slightest bit beside him and almost didn’t manage to suppress the urge to touch him. Strangers were still a bit difficult for Matt. It wasn’t anything people would notice, though. Maybe it was just because Dom was so attuned to his friend’s every mood that  _he did notice_. To him it felt like Matt’s flight instinct had sharpened immensely since he was back. Especially when he found himself in unfamiliar surroundings. Home was safe, the public wasn’t.  
  
Dom sighed quietly and tried to give Matt a reassuring smile after the waitress had gone off with their orders and a flowing skirt. The singer’s mouth twitched and one corner rose up in understanding. There, their silent communication still worked. So why didn’t Matt know that Dom wanted more than just friendship, for fuck’s sake? Every day it got harder to keep his resignation at bay although he knew it was unfair. At the same time he couldn’t just change the way he felt, could he? He was long past the point of thinking that a bit distance between them might put things into perspective again. Things had never been  _more_  in perspective.  
  
At least for him… No. No, he couldn’t allow himself to wallow in those dark thoughts again. Matt was here again and set on starting anew. The last thing he needed right now was for Dom to pressure him. Plus, Dom knew that something between them had changed for the better. Eventually Matt would come around to that, too. And really, to see his friend this happy and active again brought him joy, as well. Who cared if he had to wait some more? The odd slip of the mind wasn’t anything Dom would allow to bring them both down again. The drummer had grown so much during the time in their personal hell, he wouldn’t let himself be the stubborn child.  
  
The waitress came back with their drinks and Dom was pulled out of his thoughts. He realised that he’d missed almost half of the story Chris had been telling them and actually felt bad for zoning out like this. It didn’t seem like anyone had noticed, though, at least they didn’t let him feel it.  
  
“So, how did you get Buster out of that thing, then?”  
  
“Easy,” Chris replied. “Told him his favourite T-Rex toy was gonna go on vacation without him.”  
  
“You didn’t.” Blue eyes widened.  
  
Chris remained serious. “I totally did.”  
  
Matt started laughing and poked Dom’s side, the blonde joining in after a few seconds and Chris following suit. It wasn’t  _that_ funny, but Matt’s laugh was contagious, even after all the time they’d known each other.  
  
Once they had all quietened down they reached for their respective glasses and raised them in salute. Dom took a huge gulp and immediately spit it back into the glass. Meanwhile Matt, who’d see him doing it, spit out his own drink much less gracefully; namely, all over the table. At Chris’ horrified face turning into a deadly glare, both scrambled to clean up as quickly as possible.  
  
“I think I got the wrong drink,” Dom explained. “This is definitely vodka, not water.”  
  
“Even better.” Matt reached for his glass to take a swig, but Dom was quick enough to hit him on the fingers. “Ouch! Twat!”  
  
“You’re not old enough to drink,” Dom chided him and got up from his seat, taking the glass in his hand. “I’m gonna get something new quickly. Be right back.”  
  
He left his 2 bandmates alone and strode over to the bar, waiting for the bartender to come up to him. He glanced over to their table and saw Matt and Chris chattering quietly to each other. With a smile he turned back to see their waitress approaching and he stopped her in her tracks to explain his problem. She was actually embarrassed about the mix-up, but Dom assured her that it was no trouble with one of his patented Colgate sponsored Howard Smiles™.  
  
It only took her a few moments to exchange his drink and again she apologised. Dom waved it off and winked at her before he turned back to make his way to his friends. There were some people blocking his way and so he had to zigzag through the room. When he came back within earshot, he stopped for a second. His friends couldn’t see him yet but he could hear them alright. Eavesdropping wasn’t usually his style, but right now he felt like he couldn’t move.  
  
“-Sometimes I wake up and I’m sure I’m back in  _that_  room. Dunno. It’s… getting better, but I don’t think I can ever be comfortable there.”  
  
“Have you thought about moving out?”  
  
“Yes. And I think, I will. Soon.”  
  
Wow, that was some damn heavy talking going on at his table and Dom wasn’t sure if he liked it. He surely didn’t like the thought of Matt scared and alone in his house. But it was probably good that Matt started to open up towards Chris, as well. He leaned forward a bit to get a better look at the 2 men and saw Chris taking a long swig from his glass before he looked at the brunette again. He seemed pensive and the lines on his forehead spoke of an inner conflict. It took him some time before he spoke up and Dom held his breath at the bassist’s words.  
  
“What about moving back in with Dom?” he asked carefully.  
  
Matt looked a bit uncomfortable at that. “Umm… I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Dunno, it’s a bit weird between us right now.”  
  
“Weird how?” When Matt didn’t reply, Chris asked, “Matt?”  
  
Matt sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “I fucked up, okay? I know I don’t have to repay him for the things he did for me, but it feels pretty unbalanced at the moment and I did something I shouldn’t have done.”  
  
“Why don’t you just talk to him then? You know he’d understand. He’d do anything for you.”  
  
“I know,” Matt sighed. “That’s exactly the problem.”  
  
Chris cocked his head in question, clearly confused as to what Matt was trying to say. This was not only Chris’ first time of hearing of that. Dom was just as dumbfounded.  
  
“Don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t be more grateful that Dom’s been there for me all this time, but… Well, there’s only so much you can ask of a friend.”  
  
“I understand,” Chris said, and he thought he might have an inkling what this was about. “So, what is your next plan then?”  
  
“I’m not sure. I just need to get away from it all for a bit. Away from him.”  
  
“To-”  
  
No. He really didn’t need to hear more. Hardly noticing the people around him, he turned on his heels and quickly made his way to the bathroom. He really, really needed a moment to process what he’d just heard. It was one thing for Matt to be confused. Confused was alright, confused could be worked out. But calling it ‘weird’ and basically a mistake was a whole different level of  _so not okay_! He needed to get away from him? Seriously, if Dom made him feel so uncomfortable, why didn’t he just tell him to piss off? He’d never had any qualms about that before. But maybe moving out again had already been a polite way of saying exactly that.  
  
He gripped the sink tight and closed his eyes as the door fell shut behind him. Fortunately there were no other people around and so he could use the quiet to breathe. Shit, he couldn’t start thinking like that again. They were past that point. Or so he had thought. Maybe Matt didn’t mean it like it had sounded. Maybe he was still in limbo with his feelings. The problem was that Dom had gotten his hopes up to the point of no return. Still, he didn’t feel like telling him that. It was time for the singer to figure out what he wanted. And soon.  
  
He should have stayed a second longer to hear the rest of what Matt had said to Chris. Maybe it would have explained what had gone wrong. He didn’t think that he’d been pushing too hard. No, Matt had been the one to kiss him that afternoon in Teignmouth. And Matt had also been the one to initiate the night that had followed. Come to think of it he’d been pretty nervous and jittery the next morning, but Dom had assumed that it had been his usual weirdness that had made a return. Now, however, it looked as if Matt had realised that it was a mistake. He’d changed his mind.  
  
It was probably unfair of Dom to feel so rejected, but the statement in itself had been hurtful and quite aggressive. Whatever he’d done and whatever had spouted that idea about getting away in Matt, the singer should have come to him about it first. That much he owed him, Dom thought.  
  
But Matt hadn’t said a thing, and what was Dom supposed to do now? He couldn’t exactly go back and demand an explanation, and he didn’t want to cause a scene either. He had no right to tell Matt what he could and couldn’t do. If he wanted to get away, then there was nothing Dom could do about it except to accept it.  
  
He turned on the tap with numb fingers. He washed his hands and splayed some water on his face. Looking into the mirror he pulled at the skin under his eyes before he toweled off his hands and then dabbed the wetness from his face. Once he felt that he was ready to face his friends he left the bathroom and made his way towards their table.

He could already hear Matt laughing from a couple of steps away and when the singer’s face practically lit up once he’d spotted Dom, the latter couldn’t think of it as anything else but adding insult to injury. Nevertheless he forced a smile upon his face and sat down next to Chris, who eyed him suspiciously.  
  
“Where’s your drink?”  
  
“Oh. Umm, I…” Fuck, he had forgotten it somewhere in his haste. The loo perhaps? “I didn’t want to bother her with it, she’s busy as it is. Wasn’t that thirsty anyway. What were you 2 talking about?”  
  
Chris didn’t look convinced, but didn’t bring it up again. Instead, he covered up their true conversation topic. “Matt was telling me about the new pieces he’s been working on. Right, Matt?”  
  
“Yeah,” he confirmed and nodded his head vigorously. The grateful glance he shot Chris didn’t go unnoticed by Dom.  
  
Conversation flowed easily then, at least between Matt and Chris. Dom remained quiet most of the time and only commented on musical ideas whenever he was asked about it. He didn’t feel like talking anymore, his good mood from earlier had vanished completely with the news of Matt leaving him. He didn’t bother with anything to eat when Chris and Matt both ordered proper English breakfast, either, simply watching them devour their food. He watched Matt and how he ate like a rabid dog, with beans spilling to each side and bacon stuck to his chin. Dom couldn’t help but smile at that before he remembered the conversation he’d overheard, and his mouth turned into a thin line again.  
  
He couldn’t hide his relief when Chris announced that he had to head back. The bassist paid for them while Dom and Matt shrugged into their jackets. Without waiting, Dom then walked towards the front of the cafe and waited there for the other men to follow. The little headstart gave him enough time to take a deep breath of the cold London air. It didn’t do much to calm his nerves or cool him down, instead only burning his lungs. He watched the puffs of his breath dissipate into thin air and considered just walking away. Instead he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one up.  
  
He was halfway through his smoke when Chris and Matt joined him outside and waited for him to finish. After Chris’ halfhearted attempt at a little more smalltalk they fell into an uncomfortable silence. Dom stamped out the fag eventually and turned to the bassist.  
  
“Was good seeing you,” he said and got pulled into a hug by their friend.  
  
“You too, mate,” Chris replied quietly before giving him a concerned look, not even bothering to hide it.  
  
Dom shook his head, but the taller man was having none of it. He was just about to open his mouth when Dom turned his head away to end the conversation. That worked. Accepting the blonde’s refusal to talk about this, Chris turned around and enveloped Matt in his arms. He whispered something to Matt that Dom couldn’t quite catch and so he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and waited for their goodbye to be over. Chris didn’t seem to be quite ready to let them head off then, but he needed to leave too and so there was no point in delaying it.  
  
Dom led the way to the street in absolute silence with Matt trailing behind him. He didn’t even look at his friend and was secretly glad that he made no attempt at talking to him as he raised his hand to hail a cab. It only took a few moments until one pulled up at the pavement. Dom practically jumped into the back seat and pressed into the farthest corner while Matt climbed inside much slower and pulled the door shut. Dom gave the driver Matt’s address without sparing the singer another look and turned his face to the window to block any conversation. Anything was better than talking to his best friend right now. Still, he could feel Matt throwing him the odd glance, his eyes almost boring into the back of Dom’s head.  
  
He crossed his arms over his chest and sighed, leaning his head against the glass. London blurred by and offered no help at all. It made Dom angry for no reason because he really needed someone to tell him what to do. He knew himself and he knew Matt, so what exactly was the problem? They could figure this out, whatever it was that was bothering Matt, but Dom wasn’t sure how much more he could take. Why couldn’t Matt just tell him what made him want to leave him?  
  
“Are you okay?” Matt asked quietly and brought him back from his thoughts.  
  
“Just fine.”  
  
“Are you sure? You’ve been awfully quiet for a while now. What’s up?”  
  
“Nothing. Just tired,” Dom waved it off, still not looking at Matt. “Leave it.”  
  
There was only silence coming from next to him and Dom prayed that this would mark the end of their conversation. However, he soon enough felt bony fingers ghost over his thigh until they rested on his knee. When Matt squeezed softly in a way of comforting him, the blonde simply pulled away.  
“Dom…”  
  
“For fuck’s sake, I told you to fucking leave it.”  
  
At that Matt flinched and pulled his hand away as if burnt. Then, very carefully, he inched away as far as he could and forced his eyes to watch the scenery passing by. The silence that followed was almost suffocating.  
  
Feeling guilty about his outburst Dom steeled himself and looked over to Matt. The singer was still staring out of the window, his hands folded in his lap and his right thumb stroking the skin of his left upper hand. He somehow managed to look like a kicked puppy and Dom cursed inwardly for getting swayed so easily.  
  
Nevertheless, he whispered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”  
  
Matt looked down at his hands and sighed. “It’s alright. I won’t ask again.”  
  
Their silence continued and Dom contemplated what to do now. He could just leave it, Matt would get off the cab in a couple of minutes and they could both review the day in solitude. But Dom didn’t want to let things go so easily. He didn’t know what he wanted. He felt so confused, so the words were out of his mouth before he had even made up his mind.  
  
“I heard you talking to Chris earlier.”  
  
“Oh,” Matt breathed quietly and looked down at his hands, actually blushing. “I didn’t mean for you to find out like that.”  
  
“Yeah, and here I was thinking that we could talk about anything. But, well, probably healthier to be proven wrong every once in a while.”  
  
“What? Are you angry?”  
  
Dom huffed at that, only barely containing a laughter. “Oh yes, I’m fucking angry.”  
  
“I don’t understand,” Matt said slowly. He looked stunned and, if Dom wasn’t mistaken, a bit hurt. “I thought this is what you wanted.”  
  
“You thought I wanted  _this_? How fucking well do you think you know me?”  
  
The singer’s eyes lay wide and confused on Dom’s face and the latter bit his lip, hard. “What? I… what? But I didn’t think you’d-”  
  
“Of course not. Shit, Matt. I never asked anything of you. But you can’t even be honest with me now. Just go then, seems like you’re very keen on that. I’m so tired of this. So, so tired.”  
  
Their cab pulled to a stop and the cabbie announced they were at their destination. The 2 men remained where they were, too wound up in their conversation.  
  
“Dom-”  
  
“Spare me your excuses, please. I need some time alone.”  
  
“Dom, I don’t know why you’re-”  
  
“Stop now, Matt. I don’t want to hear any of it.”  
  
“But Dom-”  
  
“No,” the blonde said forcefully. “No. I’ve had enough for one day. Just get out.”  
  
The silence between them was heavy and unforgiving as Matt unbuckled and, one more time, turned around to look at Dom.  
  
“It’s fine,” the blonde said, his voice almost completely flat as his gaze turned back to the window on his side.  
  
Matt opened his mouth and closed it again without a sound. Then his shoulders sagged and he finally left the car without another word. Before Dom could even decide to take another look at him through the window, the cabbie had already pulled off again. With a deep sigh he sank back into his seat and closed his eyes.

___

  
_London, 13.01.2014_  
  
Matt hadn’t called since their argument in the cab.  
  
Dom couldn’t even say that he was disappointed or surprised. Seeing as he had wanted to put distance between them anyway, it was probably only logical.  
  
He looked out of the window and sighed when he saw the rain was still splashing against his windows as relentlessly as it had done for the past few hours. It made the afternoon as grey and dull as he was feeling as he stared at the TV screen, not really noticing what was on. Chris had called a few hours earlier to see how he was doing. Dom wasn’t sure if Chris suspected anything, so he’d assured him that he was fine. He wasn’t in the mood to mull everything over with his friend. Yes, the bassist knew how he felt about Matt, but right now he tried to forget about that. Because he was angry and confused and hurt and, most of all, tired of moving on the spot with Matt.  
  
Granted, he knew that he’d been a right dick in the cafe and during their cab ride, and yes, he also knew that his behaviour had been downright childish. But he couldn’t really feel bad about it, not when the singer hadn’t acted much differently. The whole situation was so fucked up that at this point Dom didn’t know if it could be fixed. He wondered if Matt would have told him at some point or just vanished from one day to the next.  
  
It was then that there was a quiet knock on the door and his head turned around as if he could see through the wood to figure out who was bothering him in his self-pitying. He couldn’t be arsed to get up and greet whoever it was, so he simply stayed on the couch and opened another bottle of beer, but the knocking turned more persistent. With an exaggerated sigh he swung himself off the couch and towards the door, opening it with a swift movement to tell his visitor to go piss off.  
  
However, the words died in his throat when he realised just who his visitor was and he squeaked in surprise when a very wet Matt looked up at him in a mixture of nervousness and stubbornness.  
  
“It’s not fucking fine,” he said in way of greeting and pushed past Dom to get inside, leaving the surprised drummer in the doorway.  
  
“Matt? What are you doing here?” Quickly Dom caught up with Matt who was now agitatedly pacing back and forth in the living room.  
  
The brunette stopped in his tracks and looked at Dom for a very long time without saying anything. But when he finally opened his mouth, the words sounded angry, almost bitter.  
  
“I don’t know what it is you want me to do, Dom! First you want me around 24/7, then you want me to piss off? When I’m finally ready to…” He trailed off for a second, then said, “You’re a downright arsehole, you know that?”  
  
“How the fuck am I the arsehole?  _You_  are the one wanting to move away because you can’t stand to be around me anymore.” His fists balled up at his sides on their own accord and he stared back at the singer.  
  
“I don’t!” Matt cried out in desperation and his face was flushed with anger at that point. “I don’t want to move away, you prick! And I don’t hate you, either. Why would you even- Wait.” His face lit up in realisation. “Which part of that conversation did you even hear?”  
  
“The one where you told Chris that you wanted to move away and things were weird between us, and that you needed to get away from me,” Dom replied in an angry torrent of words that almost equaled Matt’s at his best.  
  
Matt rubbed his face vigorously and took a sharp breath, his voice a lot more quiet when he spoke up again. “And it didn’t occur to you that you might’ve missed something?”  
  
Well…  
  
“Yeah, that’s what I thought…” Matt sighed deeply, suddenly deflating and letting himself sink down on the couch. He didn’t seem to care the least about his completely soggy clothes.  
  
“So… I did miss something?” Dom asked tentatively, the anger having left him in one curious go, and he sat down next to his surprise visitor.  
  
“Quite a lot, it seems.” The singer stifled an ironic laugh and wrapped his arms around himself.  
  
  
 _They both watched Dom disappear into the crowd and towards the bar, Matt’s gaze staying on him a bit longer than Chris’.  
  
After a slightly stretched silence - which was neither comfortable nor exactly awkward – Chris cleared his throat to get the smaller man’s attention. “So… How have you been?”  
  
It took him a moment to think until he replied, “Alright, I guess. Still getting used to living at my place again. It’s a bit..”  
  
“Scary,” Chris finished for him. Matt nodded. “I get that. I don’t think I could do that.”  
  
“I don’t know if I can either.” He grabbed his glass to occupy himself, moving it so the liquid sloshed in circles. Chris didn’t push, just waited for him to continue the conversation or scrap it all together. “I mean, on the one hand I really enjoy being independent again. It gives me more room to get stuff done and straighten some things out for myself. But I can admit to myself that it’s not the right place to do so. Sometimes I feel as if there’s someone in the house with me. Especially at night I… Sometimes I wake up and I’m sure I’m back in_ that  _room. Dunno. It’s… getting better, but I don’t think I can ever be comfortable there.”  
  
“Have you thought about moving out?”  
  
“Yes. And I think, I will. Soon.”  
  
The bassist hummed and took his own glass, taking a long gulp. He seemed to contemplate something, his brows creasing in thought. Or maybe he was just uncomfortable about the topic. Matt couldn’t say he didn’t understand if that was the case. He himself felt uncomfortable whenever he even thought about this, so it was even rarer that he talked about his issues. He’d come a long way and opened up to Dom quite alright, but this was an entirely different problem with other people.  
  
“What about moving back in with Dom?” Chris asked carefully.  
  
“Umm… I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Dunno, it’s a bit weird between us right now.”  
  
“Weird how?” When Matt didn’t reply, Chris asked, “Matt?”  
  
Matt sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “I fucked up, okay? I know I don’t have to repay him for the things he did for me, but it feels pretty unbalanced at the moment and I did something I shouldn’t have done.”  
  
“Why don’t you just talk to him then? You know he’d understand. He’d do anything for you.”  
  
“I know,” Matt sighed. “That’s exactly the problem.”  
  
Chris cocked his head in question, clearly confused as to what Matt was trying to say. Meanwhile, Matt was getting more nervous the longer their conversation went on. Dom should be back any time now and he didn’t want to discuss this topic with him in some random café.  
  
“Don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t be more grateful that Dom’s been there for me all this time, but… Well, there’s only so much you can ask of a friend.”  
  
“I understand,” Chris said, and Matt could swear that Chris sounded as though he might have an inkling what this was about. “So, what is your next plan then?”  
  
“I’m not sure. I just need to get away from it all for a bit. Away from him.”  
  
“To straighten things out.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“To figure out what Dom means to you.”  
  
There was no point in denying it, so Matt simply said, “Yes.”  
  
“You should tell him.”  
  
“I know.” Another sigh escaped thin lips. “I know I should. But I’m scared, Chris.”  
  
“But-“  
  
“He’s been so very patient with me and the most understanding person when I needed it. But I don’t want to string him along. I already fucked up badly. I kissed him at the pier, for fuck’s sake,” he rambled. His hand snuck into his hair and he pulled at the strands almost painfully, the whole conversation stressing him out more than he would let on. “_Things  _happened between us, but I don’t know what to do now. I don’t want to hurt him. What if I realise that these feelings are just born out of what happened? What if he’s convenient while I’m still trying to readjust?”  
  
Chris didn’t reply to that. Not like Matt expected him to, because not even Chris could have an answer to that. Nobody did. He had to figure it out on his own. All he knew was that he had to. He owed that to Dom. Dom, who’d jumped through fire and gone through hell to get him home. Dom, who smiled at the simplest words he uttered and laughed at the silliest jokes he told. Dom, who might as well think that Matt had hung the moon and the stars. Dom, who loved him unconditionally without him ever giving anything back.  
  
“He doesn’t deserve it,” Matt finally whispered, picking at the tablecloth. “He only deserves the best. Everything.”  
  
After a while, Chris reached out to Matt’s hand that was still gripping his glass tightly. The singer looked up to him when calloused fingers touched his knuckles.  
  
“The fact that you’re so worried about it shows how much he means to you,” Chris began and smiled tentatively. “I know what you’re going to say, he’s your best friend, so of course you’re worried about his well-being. But if you leave now, if only temporarily, Dom won’t be able to cope. Plus, there’s no guarantee you’ll find the peace you’re looking for elsewhere.”  
  
“Yeah, maybe you’re right.” Matt nodded slowly, easing the death grip on his hair. “But I don’t know what else to do.”  
  
“Just go for it.”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“Tell him what you feel now and what you’re afraid of, he’ll understand. You won’t know until you try.”  
  
“But if I find out that I don’t- That I’m not-“ His gaze turned downwards again, looking at their hands. “I don’t want to cut him so deep.”  
  
“You’ll hurt him more if you don’t even give it a try. This way you’d at least both know.”  
  
“Yeah…”  
  
“You’re a twat, Matt,” the bassist stated and grinned broadly when the singer in question scowled. “You’re an obnoxious dick sometimes, but your heart’s in the right place. I’ve seen you guys at Christmas and you were genuinely happy together. I’m not a psychologist but believe me when I say that everyone could see how smitten you were with him. I’ve known you for half my life and I know when your heart isn’t in something. I understand your insecurity but this is not a temporary thing, mate. Give it a chance, Dom deserves at least that.”  
  
“I want to…”  
  
“Then do it. Stop overthinking.”  
  
A long silence followed in which Matt contemplated what Chris had said. The bassist was right. Of course he was, the man was a dad and could probably give advice on almost anything. It seemed so easy now, when Chris put it like that. He_ was  _smitten with Dom, there was no other way to put it. It hadn’t changed since he’d realised his feelings, so why should it change all of sudden? If he ran away now they’d never find out what they were capable of._  Matt  _would never find out what he was capable of in terms of making Dom happy. He just needed to stop being afraid and let go.  
  
At last he breathed a quiet “Okay,” before the corners of his lips lifted upwards into a genuine smile.  
  
Chris, being satisfied with the answer, retracted his hand and crossed his arms, trying his best to look serious and intimidating. “Now, chin up. We’ve got breakfast ahead.”  
  
And just like that the heavy atmosphere was almost gone as Matt burst out laughing just before Dom approached their table._  
  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Yeah, fucking  _oh_. Has no one ever told you it’s rude to listen in on someone else’s conversation?” He crossed his arms. “And even ruder to get only  _half_  of it and then go and make assumptions?”  
  
Dom thought that he looked a little nervous now that the whole truth was out in the open. Nervous and expectant.  
  
“I… I’m sorry, Matt,” Dom finally breathed and couldn’t take his eyes off his friend.  
  
There it was, the confession he’d longed to hear for so long, right in front of him. He didn’t know what to do. Matt had laid bare his feelings and his insecurities, the reason why he’d needed to get away from Dom for a bit. And  _he’d_  completely misinterpreted it. Why again hadn’t he talked to Matt about what he’d heard? Ah, yes, because he was a stubborn bastard. At times. That must have rubbed off from his frontman at some point.  
  
Matt breathed out slowly. “Nah, it’s okay, I guess… I could’ve…  _should_  have talked to you about this sooner. But I didn’t know how and then you were angry at me in the cab and I-”  
  
“No, it’s my fault. I jumped to conclusions and didn’t give you the chance to explain. I’m sorry.”  
  
The singer fiddled with the hem of his soaked jacket and snuck a look at Dom as if to make sure that he was still there. It was a little scary to see Matt like this, still afraid of rejection and dead set on making himself heard at the same time. Dom had never been so wrong about him before.  
  
“Well,” he began, not sure what he even wanted to say. “I think we should find you some dry clothes and then-”  
  
Matt didn’t let him finish and instead turned around to him fully, gripping the collar of his shirt and pulling their faces together. For a second Dom was stunned and didn’t return the wet kiss, but then he felt the desperation and urgency behind Matt’s movements, the same impatience he felt ever since he’d realised his feelings for the smaller man. So he wrapped his arms around Matt’s shoulders and closed his eyes. The weird thought that their kisses were always most meaningful when it was raining went through his head and he grinned into the kiss.  
  
“I don’t know if I’ve made that completely clear, so I’m gonna spell it out for you,” Matt murmured quietly between soft sounds of pleasure. “I love you, Dom. I love you, and it scares me a bit.”  
  
Dom’s heart skipped several beats at that and he opened his eyes again to find Matt’s very close and full of question. His body was tingling with unexpected happiness and he cradled Matt’s face in his hands as he dove in for another quick kiss.  
  
“Scared I can handle,” he breathed against Matt’s lips and grinned again. “You probably know this already, but I love you, too.”  
  
Apparently Matt didn’t, though. Dom could literally feel how the tension left Matt’s body and relief took reign in its place. He positively melted against the drummer’s chest and a soft giggle escaped his lips.  
  
“You know, at first I thought I knew, but then I didn’t anymore because it seemed like you’d changed your mind. Now I do again.”  
  
Dom shook his head at that and looked into blue eyes. Shit, it must’ve felt like complete rejection when he’d practically told Matt to leave it be in the taxi. The brunette hadn’t known which part of the conversation he’d heard and so, naturally, he’d been hurt, too. Fuck, all just because he’d been too upset and stubborn to talk.  
  
“I love you,” Dom said again, just for good measure and because it kindled the fire in his belly so nicely.  
  
It didn’t take more to make Matt jump into action again. And jump he did alright. Suddenly Dom had his lap full of drenched Bellamy and he genuinely didn’t care that his shirt and trousers were already soaking up all the rainwater. Matt’s legs found their place on each side of Dom’s body while his arms effectively trapped the blonde’s head when he pushed them against the back of the couch for leverage.  
  
They kissed shyly like that, just small pecks to their lips, cheeks and jaws. At one point Matt dove in to bite Dom’s bottom lip. The latter grinned and pulled back, a pout immediately spreading on Matt’s face that only vanished when Dom angled his head to the side to fit their lips together. He worked the singer’s mouth open and slipped his tongue inside with a gentle push, no resistance coming from the brunette. Their tongues slid together without any attempt at trying to win over the other, instead simply dancing in sync, caressing each other to an unknown rhythm.  
  
When they finally pulled apart Matt stood up and held his hand out for Dom to take. He led him to the stairs up to the master bedroom, the intent very clear to both of them. However, before their feet hit the first step Matt turned Dom’s body around and pushed him against the wall. Dom noted how well their bodies fit together when the smaller man pressed himself against his front.  
  
Matt started to fiddle with the hem of his shirt, but didn’t seem to be ready to part yet, so the whole action took more effort than exactly necessary. Dom didn’t mind, because there was nothing better than being practically glued to Matt Bellamy, even if he did get a bit impatient. So to help, he simply raised his arms and waited for Matt to pull the shirt over his head.  
  
Instead of doing that, however, he simply raised it up to under his armpits and kissed the centre of his chest. Dom didn’t dare to move, so his arms hung awkwardly in the air while he watched Matt stare at the spot he’d just touched with his lips, apparently thinking about how to word what was going on in his head.  
  
“Thank you,” he simply stated when he had made up his mind.  
  
In reply, Dom cocked his head to the side, a silent request for the singer to elaborate.  
  
“Thank you for, like, everything.” His right hand travelled to Dom’s left hip to caress the skin tenderly. “Thank you for saving me back there and… You know, for taking care of me when I couldn’t do it myself. I don’t think I’d be here without you.”  
  
“‘s nothing,” he replied. He didn’t like where the conversation was suddenly going.  
  
“No, Dom. I don’t think you understand. I wouldn’t  _be_  anymore, without you. And for some time I thought that was the reason why I… why I am in love with you. But it’s not true. I already loved you before everything happened. I just didn’t realise it back then. I think I have always loved you, in a way.”  
  
“You… You have?” Dom asked flatly and a lump formed in his throat as they looked at each other. This was so beyond his expectations.  
  
“Yeah, I think I have. You know, I had a lot of time to think about it back in that miserable shithole. And I’m kinda embarrassed that I needed to get into a fucked up situation like that to realise it. I was scared she would hurt you and I couldn’t bear the thought. Of course the same goes for the others, Chris and Tom and Kelly and Morgan… You’re my family and I think that thought kept me going. If it’d been just about myself down there… Well, better not think about it.” A sad sigh escaped Matt’s lips.  
  
“You see, I have always known that you’re my best friend and that I basically cannot function without you, at least not for long. But I had no idea how deep that went… goes, really. Doesn’t mean I haven’t been in love in my previous relationships, but… I don’t know. It was different. And looking back on everything now, I guess you’ve always been my constant. The one I could fall back on. You know that sexuality has never been an issue for me. We started that friendship with benefits thing and… Yeah, it was just even more proof that I’m comfortable around you in every aspect of my life. But… only in the face of possibly losing you forever did I  _know_  that there’s more to it than simply being comfortable. You’ve always been there, you’ve seen me at my best and my worst and-”  
  
Finally, Dom took the singer’s face in his hands and kissed him again. It appeared that he couldn’t stand even the small distance between them anymore that had been caused by Matt’s endless - but oh so meaningful! - rambling. This time their kiss was neither shy nor desperate, though. It was deep and heartfelt and full of emotions.  
  
Momentarily confused by this sudden interruption Matt’s eyes went wide and his body still. But then his limbs went pliant and a gentle smile curled his lips against Dom’s. He let himself sink against that warm body and Dom supported both their weights against the wall behind him. They stayed like that for a while, both revelling in each other’s closeness, until the need for air became too strong.  
  
Dom smiled fondly at Matt whose eyes were soft and sparkling with happiness while his lips were pink and shiny with both their saliva. Taking a deep breath, he took the other man’s hand and nodded up the stairs suggestively.  
  
“Let’s take this somewhere more comfortable?” he asked and immediately a big grin spread across Matt’s face. Obviously he didn’t need to be asked twice.  
  
Together they began their - admittedly hasty - ascend, fingers intertwined all the way up the stairs. Matt only let go of Dom’s hand to let him open the door, before stepping inside first. Dom closed the door behind them. When he turned back to Matt he was met with an intense blue gaze.  
  
“And you’re not going to call me a softie?” the singer asked, almost as an afterthought.  
  
“Wouldn’t dare to,” Dom replied, dead serious. But Matt knew that hint of mischief in his lover’s voice and chuckled. He extended his hand for his lover to take. Dom didn’t hesitate for even a second.  
  
“You would.”  
  
“Yeah, I would.”  
  
He hummed before he pulled the blonde closer and pressed his body to the other man’s front. “Well, I can tell you that soft won’t be my general state tonight.”  
  
At that Dom laughed in happy amusement and pushed Matt backwards onto the bed, following him suit when the smaller man pulled him down with him.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. The end. When we started this off we never expected it to become what it is now. We never even expected it to be this long. Initially, this was planned to be 12 chapters long. We never really stuck to that plan, or any plan, really. There are chapters that have played out exactly like we wanted them to, but there are equally as many that had to be rewritten at least a couple of times (not to mention that one chapter that had to be completely overhauled because we fucked up important key points). It's kind of an end of an era for us and we're both happy that you guys have stuck with us for this ride. 
> 
> Really, we're so grateful for each and every reader and all your thoughts. Sometimes you guys saw details in this that even we didn't see. It gave us a lot of insight into our own story and we loved it. Alas, the rollercoaster is coming to its final stop now and it saddens us to the same extent as it makes us happy. We hope you enjoyed UD just as much as we did. 
> 
> Before we ramble even more, let's try to keep this short. Thank you for reading and commenting, thank you for your support and your cheering, thank you for everything. And enjoy this last look into the boys' happily ever after.

 

_London, 06.04.2014_

 

“For fuck’s sake, Matthew!”

Dom was pacing through their living room, looking at the door to the bathroom before he took another round and ended up back in front of it again. They’d fucking miss their ride if the brunette didn’t hurry the fuck up.

“I’m almost done, don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

“I’m not getting my knickers in a twist!” the drummer protested and pushed the door hiding the brunette open. “You call that almost done?”

Matt was standing in front of the mirror, razor in one hand while the other massaged shaving cream into the skin of his chin and jaw. He was not only barefoot but also shirtless, which didn’t go unnoticed by the drummer. Grey eyes trailed over the exposed collarbone, the pale skin stretching over muscles and sinews, two dark nipples begging to be licked. It was safe to say he was momentarily distracted.

“It is!” Matt protested and brought Dom back into reality, the blonde ducking away when Matt swung the razor in a typical Bellamy gesture of articulating.

“Come on, you silly moose. Give me that razor.”

Without waiting he grabbed it out of Matt’s hands and pushed him towards the edge of the bathtub, making him sit on the rim. He pushed the brunette’s chin up a bit to get better access, then started to shave alongside his jaw.

“I could have done that myself,” Matt argued, but didn’t move away.

“Stop twitching!” Dom chided him, but continued without a halt. “And you could have, but we’d still be here tomorrow.”

When Matt opened his mouth to speak up again, clearly an insult on the tip of his tongue, he added in a much quieter voice, “Plus, I really like doing this. Taking care of you. I like pampering you.”

The singer’s mouth snapped shut then, a small smile gracing his lips. The look he gave Dom was so full of adoration that the drummer had to look away. He still didn’t deal well with it, no matter how much he longed to see it again. It made his stomach roll in the most pleasant ways and gave him a dizziness he couldn’t shake easily. He was clearly a lost cause.

He finished the task and grabbed a towel to clean the remaining shaving cream off, the typical Bellamy goatee now gracing the singer’s face.

“There, you look decent again. One could even think you’re a proper gentleman instead of a dirty tramp.”

“Piss off!”

The towel was slung around the back of the singer’s neck and Dom pulled him towards his own body, kissing him softly. Matt responded immediately, one hand raising to touch Dom’s cheek, the other squeezing his waist. His pointy tongue slid inside the blonde’s mouth with ease and Dom let him dominate him without putting up any fight. There was even less fight involved when 2 calloused hands moved to grab his bum and massaged the cheeks vigorously.

Matt released his mouth and Dom gasped for air, trying to get his brain to work. He looked at Matt with half lidded eyes and tried really hard to ignore the lustful look the singer was giving him.

“We need to-”

“-get to the bedroom, I agree.” Matt grinned and dived back in. He pushed his groin forward, both gasping at the contact. His hips started to sway in the rhythm of his tongue up above.

“No, Matt. The show. We need to get ready.”

The brunette hummed against his lips before his mouth trailed downwards to the blonde’s neck to suck on his pulsepoint. “I can give you a show you won’t forget, baby.”

Dom, still trying to keep up conscious thought, shook his head. “No, no. Stop, we need to… to… Oh shit, yes.”

He abandoned his last shred of resolve when talented fingers touched his cock through his pants. Matt knew how to push his buttons, and Dom could do nothing but accept it. His loud moan echoed through the bathroom when he threw his head back in pleasure. The singer’s mouth left his neck to continue its journey downwards, then. He trailed his tongue along his collarbone, licking it with passion. The hand that wasn’t occupied with Dom’s dick travelled to the top buttons of his shirt and popped them open before moving onto one of his nipples, teasing the bud lightly.

Another moan escaped the drummer’s lips when Matt’s tongue travelled further down and both hands let go of him to grab his hips instead. The promise of what was to come, with Matt almost kneeling in front of him, was too much to take and he feared he’d come on the spot before the main course had even been served.

“You’re right,” the brunette suddenly exclaimed and let go of Dom, pushing himself back into a standing position. The drummer whined in response and pawed at the pale chest that was now back in front of him, Matt laughing manically at his childish behaviour. “Come on.”

“Nooooo! Matt, what are you doing?” The brunette in question was busy putting on his shirt and buttoning it up. “Stop, why are you getting dressed?”

“The show? You just said we have to get ready.”

“But-”

“Sorry, Dom. Show.”

Dom whined. “Remind me again why I love you?”

“Because I’m a good looking, honorable gentleman.”

“You’re a stupid wanker, that’s what you are.”

“And yet, you still love me,” Matt said and winked at him before he left the bathroom to collect his socks and shoes.

Dom looked after him and smiled to himself. When Matt was out of sight he put the razor and shaving cream away and tidied up. One day he’d teach the singer to keep the bathroom - or any room, really - clean when he worked in it. Seeing as they had officially moved in together it was a necessity to teach him some manners or Dom would sooner or later go insane. He picked up a stray towel and put it on the rack, only then he was satisfied with the state of the room. The fact that his erection had vanished due to the distraction was a nice bonus, and he felt ready to leave without the danger of jumping Matt as soon as he laid his eyes on him (not that it was literally dangerous, or even something negative, but kind of counter-productive when you wanted to leave the house in time).  

He looked himself over in the mirror and fingered his hair to get some strands back into position before he left the bathroom and sat down in the armchair located in the den. He sighed heavily and looked out of the window.

Now that the arousal had left his body Dom felt himself becoming nervous again. They were going to do a gig at the Royal Albert Hall tonight, their first proper appearance since the events of last year. They had managed to dodge interviews and paparazzi surprisingly well, not only while Matt had struggled with therapy but also during their studio time. Tonight, however, they wouldn’t be able to escape the many questions and observant eyes.

Matt had actually suggested this small one-off show, a charity gig with all earnings going to the Mind charity that dealt with mental health issues. Although different from what they usually supported, Dom had immediately jumped at the singer’s idea, knowing fully well just how important it was that there were people taking care, not only of those dealing with mental issues, but also their friends and family. He himself would forever be grateful that they had gotten all the support they could ever have asked for when they had dealt with Matt’s PTSD.  

He looked to the side when he heard footsteps coming from the staircase. Sure enough Matt’s body came into view, now fully dressed in a dark blue suit jacket hugging his upper body. Dom rose from the chair and walked towards the singer, watching him fumble with the cuffs nervously, the bravado from before flown out of the window.

Wordlessly, Dom grabbed Matt’s underarm and pulled him closer before he buttoned up the cuff. Once done, Matt raised his arm to let the drummer do the other side as well.

“Dom?”

The drummer looked up from the cuffs to stare into vulnerable blue eyes.

“It will be okay, right?”

“Of course,” he said reassuringly. “It will all be alright. We’ll go in there, own that gig, talk for a bit and then go home.”

Matt hummed in reply, not actually convinced.

“Hey.” Dom let go of the singer’s hands to push up his chin, giving Matt no choice but to look into his eyes. “You’re going to blow them away. You’ll be fine.”

He moved his hand to Matt’s neck, caressing the soft skin there and feeling his heartbeat thumping underneath. Their hands locked, the rest of the conversation taking place solely through gestures.

Blue eyes staring into grey depths intently. _I’m scared._

A tilt of the head. _So am I._

A peck on the corner of his mouth. _Stay with me._

A cheek pressed to another cheek. _You’re not alone._

A proper kiss this time. _I love you._

Arms looping around a skinny body. _I’ll never let you go._

They smiled against each other’s lips until Dom let go of the singer and took a step backwards, looking into his eyes. He looked a lot calmer now, albeit still a bit nervous. Dom could only guess that Matt would read the same in his.

“Let’s go, or Chris will be pissed.”

Matt giggled softly and nodded, his small bout of doubt having passed for the time being.

“I’m actually pretty tempted to rile him up.”

“Please don’t,” Dom begged and giggled himself. “I really don’t want to pull your head out of the toilet. Or your arse.”

The brunette pouted at that before he scrunched up his nose, probably conjuring a mental image of his head stuck god knows where. Then he broke into another fit of giggles and poked Dom in the ribs, who squeaked loudly.

“Come on now, twatface,” Matt said sweetly and made his way to the door. He stopped in his tracks and looked back at Dom. The latter hadn’t moved a single step, much more interested in watching the brunette. He walked back to take Dom’s hand and pulled him with him without another word.

 

___

 

“Half an hour to go, everyone!” Tom shouted as he hurried through the wide and busy corridor, and shortly after came to a halt in the open door of Matt’s dressing room.

The singer was seated on the couch, his attention apparently completely elsewhere, as his fingers flew through the air in front of him, touching invisible piano keys.

“Hey,” came Dom’s excited voice from down the corridor as he approached with a spring in his step.

“There you are,” Tom smiled. “Thought you’d be here with Matt. Is he alright?” The taller brunette nodded his head in Matt’s direction and Dom snuck a look around the corner into the room.

“Yeah, just went to take a piss,” he shrugged and smiled softly at the sight of his boyfriend. “He’s good. He’s been doing that every few minutes ever since the soundcheck. Said it helps him go through the songs again.”

“Ah, one of his musical-genius things,” Tom chuckled, highly amused by the fact that their friend was completely oblivious to his surroundings. “Thought I knew them all by now.”

“Nah, this one is new,” Dom replied and squeezed past Tom into the room.

“27 minutes,” the photographer reminded him with another look at his watch and then hurried off, looking as important as humanly possible so no one tried to stop him.

“He’s probably gonna bother the rest of the crew about the time now, isn’t he?” Matt laughed quietly and Dom slumped down next to him, a little surprised Matt hadn’t zoned out completely, after all.

“Knowing Tom… yes,” Dom chuckled and put an arm up on the back of the couch, starting to gently ruffle the hair at the nape of Matt’s neck. “Are you alright?”

At that Matt rolled his eyes but smiled fondly. “Seriously Dom, you start to sound like a broken record. I’m good.”

“Yeah, maybe. But I know you and you know _me_ , so you’ll have to deal with me asking at least five more times before we need to get on stage.”

“Guess I could have it worse,” Matt grinned and leant into the touch of Dom’s hand.

“Sorry to interrupt,” came a voice from the door and both men turned in their seats to find Chris standing in the doorway, “but Tom kindly asked me to tell you that we’ve got 20 minutes to go. And with kindly asked I mean loudly ordered.”

“Why’s he acting like we’ve never played a gig before?” the singer asked. “I know it’s been a while but procedures haven’t changed, have they? It’s still get on stage, play songs, make them swoon and throw a guitar at Dom, right?”

“Well, actually-” Dom started, not completely convinced by Matt’s bravado, but sensing a chance to save his delicate skin for once.

“Yes, exactly,” Chris cut him short and shared a laugh with the singer at Dom’s consternation. “Although it might be a good idea to make it up to him afterwards.”

“Would be great if you didn’t start throwing things at me again in the first place,” Dom butted in, but Matt simply waved him off.

“You know that I’m not my level-headed, rational self when I’m on stage.”

“When are you ever?”

“Okay, see you in a few,” Chris interrupted their bantering with a laugh and pulled out his phone that had just started ringing. “Kelly and the kids just arrived. I’m gonna pick them up at the backstage entrance.”

Dom grinned and Matt just saluted Chris in an exaggerated gesture. “Don’t forget to get to the stage in time or Tom will have your head on a stick.”

After the bassist had left Matt got up and walked over to his suitcase. He knelt down in front of it and started rummaging through it, his back to Dom. The latter leant forward, still seated on the couch, and supported his elbows on his knees while intently looking at his boyfriend. The movement stopped suddenly and the singer was frozen on the spot. Dom cocked his head and waited.

“Matt?” he asked gently when the singer hadn’t moved for quite some time.

“What if I fuck it up? What if I can’t play? What if I disappoint them? You?” Dom could see a violent shudder running through the small body.

Dom jumped up immediately and went to kneel beside him. He proceeded to put his hand to the back of Matt’s neck, rubbing it soothingly. Somehow he had expected it, but the sudden insecurity in Matt’s voice still took him by surprise.

“What are you talking about? You could never disappoint them. Or Chris and me, for that matter. You’re going to be as brilliant as ever, I know it.”

Matt turned his face towards him, looking timid and in dire need of confirmation. “How?”

“How I know that?” Dom asked and smiled softly at Matt’s hesitant nod. “It’s quite simple, really. I know _you_ for starters. I know that, no matter what, you’re going to get out there and make that stage yours. That’s what you always do. You always rise above all the obstacles. It’s who you are and nothing can change that. And even if you thought you couldn’t and decided to stop making music after all, you could never disappoint me. You’d still be the same engaging, loveable and passionate man, the Matt I have fallen in love with.”

Matt’s smile grew a bit wider at that and he shoved Dom’s shoulder lightly. “You know that I have to tell you that you’re getting really soppy in your old age, right?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged and pressed a kiss to the other man’s temple. “I know.”

The brunette’s eyes dropped to the ground then and he whispered, “Thank you, though.” The gratefulness shone through in his voice and Dom’s lips turned upwards, a bit of colour tinting his cheeks.

“Ten minutes!” came another loud and more nervous shout from the hallway and the two musicians smiled at each other.

“Guess it’s time to work some magic.” Dom clapped his hands to his thighs and got up again. “You ready?”

“Not sure,” Matt replied and for a second Dom’s heart sank again. But then the singer looked up at him, reached his hand out for Dom take, and said, “We’ll just need to get on stage and see.”

“Sounds good to me,” the drummer beamed and pulled the other man to his feet. “Let’s go and see.”

Together the two men left the dressing room. By now the hallway was a lot quieter than it had been a few minutes ago. Most of the crew were already behind or around the stage, all getting ready for their first show since Helsinki.

Chris caught up with them then, smiling and putting his arms around their respective shoulders. Dom and Matt each looped an arm around his waist and intertwined their fingers behind the taller man’s back. They remained quiet as they walked down the hallway like that, not feeling the need for words. They all _knew_ the importance of this moment. It was their final step back to how things used to be, back to normality.

From the side of the stage they could see the lights dimming and hear the crowd shouting for them. Matt stepped in front of both Dom and Chris and glanced backwards to his friends one more time before he jumped out and shouted something into his mic. Dom and Chris both grinned, then joined their singer while the spotlights were turned on and pointed on them.

 

___

 

“Has anyone seen Matt?”

Dom was walking through the backstage area after their gig, trying to locate the singer. After they had finished the setlist they’d gone back to the dressing room together, but Matt had apparently slipped out shortly after.

The show itself had been a huge success. The crowd had gone crazy over the setlist, which had been more on the rocky side of their spectrum, and they themselves had been more than happy to perform. Maybe it was because they hadn’t been on stage in a long time, but it seemed like they had been surrounded by a special energy that night.

Now, however, Matt seemed to have vanished into thin air. Dom wasn’t worried that Matt would do anything stupid, not at all, but maybe now that the adrenaline had mostly worn off the singer felt all the pressure and worries nagging at him again. After going through a rollercoaster of confidence the whole day the drummer wouldn’t be surprised if he found him back in a slump now. Whatever the reason was, he needed to make sure that Matt was or would be okay, then he’d leave him alone if that’s what he wanted.

“Matt? He just went outside a couple of minutes ago,” one of the techies told him and Dom went in the direction he pointed him at.

He pushed through several people packing their belongings, mostly wardrobe related and much to Dom’s embarrassment mostly his stuff, until the area cleared and he was faced with the fire exit. He pushed the door open carefully and stepped outside, a soft spring breeze immediately hitting his face.

The singer was leaning against the wall a couple of steps away from the door, his head tipped backwards so he could observe the stars. His right hand was raised to his mouth, a half gone cigarette poised between his pointer and middle finger. Dom watched him take a long drag before he exhaled the smoke and then turned his head towards the drummer, who took it as an invitation to join him when no word of protest was uttered. He closed the door to give them privacy and walked slowly over to Matt. He pushed his back to the wall next to him and studied his face.

“Alright?” he asked quietly.

Matt hummed in reply and offered the fag to Dom by pushing it against his lips. The blonde complied and inhaled deeply, his gaze moving upwards to the sky.

He felt so peaceful out there, the quietness such a stark contrast to the hectic life buzzing on the other side of the fire exit door. It was surprisingly warm for a spring night in London and the sky was almost cloudless, giving a wonderful view of the stars that were visible even through the light pollution caused by the busy city.   

“‘s nice,” he commented.

Meanwhile, Matt moved closer to Dom so he could bump their heads together. “Sorry I bailed on you like that. Just needed a couple of minutes to myself.”

“‘s okay,” Dom said. Grinning, he added, “I was just worried that you needed another cuddle.”

“Fuck off,” the smaller man grumbled and bumped his head into Dom’s forcefully. The drummer’s exclamation and string of expletives satisfied him only temporarily until aggressive fingers poked his ribs.

“You’re a downright nuisance!”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t know what you signed up for!” Matt giggled but didn’t need long until he calmed down again after Dom spared him another attack. The gig really had taken its toll on them and the quiet around them seemed to have its effect on the two musicians, as well. Matt took another drag from the cigarette and then handed it to the blonde to do the same.

“I know exactly what I have signed up for,” Dom whispered into the smoke he’d just blown through his lips.

Matt fumbled around with Dom’s hand to get the remnants of the cigarette from his fingers. He took one last, long drag from it and then stumped it out under his heel.

“‘twas a good gig, wasn’t it?” he asked quietly, his gaze still directed upwards.

“It was a _great_ gig,” Dom replied enthusiastically. “You were amazing. So was the crowd. And the crew. And Chris and I, we were great, too.”

A soft giggle escaped the smaller man’s lips as he nodded and turned to his boyfriend again. “You know that I couldn’t have done it without you, right?”

Dom sniggered and put an arm around Matt’s shoulder. “Well, sometimes I think you’d make a very entertaining one-man show.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it, twat,” Matt retorted without much force behind his words. “This whole… _everything_.” He moved his arms around, gesturing in his usual manner when he didn’t know how to put his thoughts into words.

“Matt, shut up.” The smile was obvious in Dom’s voice, but he still meant it. “You’ve thanked me enough. But you couldn’t have done it without yourself, either. It’s not like I did all the work.”

“Yeah,” Matt sighed and leant into Dom. “It’s all a bit surreal, though. To be back, I mean. Everything feels different, although nothing really is, you know? I’m still a bit scared, but tonight I realised that this is good. Being back out there, coming out of my shell again, it helps.”

Dom just kept smiling and pressed his nose into the mess that was Matt’s hair. “I hoped it would.”

For a few minutes they fell back into silence. They could hear the low murmuring of people and the odd car driving by while they both revelled in each other’s presence. But, Matt being Matt, he couldn’t stay still for much longer and so he wriggled himself out of Dom’s embrace and went to lean on the balustrade in front of them. Dom eyed him curiously until a low laugh erupted from the smaller man. The drummer proceeded to stand beside him, giggling without knowing what was going on. Matt’s laugh was just that infectious.

“It’s all a bit cliché, isn’t it? The happy ending after the long struggle?”

“Yeah, but what can you do?” Dom grinned broadly. “Clichés are clichés for a reason. There is something beautiful to them. Besides, this is not the typical ending of any old movie. We’ve got years and years ahead of us. As a band, as mates, as a family, and as-”

“Oi, stop there,” Matt laughed, almost hysterical now. “You’re just making it worse!”

“Piss off.”

His laugh quieted down then, only a chuckle left, and he said softly, “You’re such a romantic, Dom.”

The blonde smiled to himself and didn’t bother to correct Matt. In a way the singer was right. If Dom could, he’d wine and dine him every day and make him feel like the most important person on earth. Which he was to Dom, to be quite honest. If that wasn’t romantic - and, admittedly, really gay - then he didn’t know.  

“Not bad…” Matt continued quietly and paused for effect, Dom taking his hand to squeeze it. “... for a whore like you.”

“You’re such a wanker, Matt,” Dom exclaimed and pulled the singer towards him, embracing him to poke his sides vigorously.

The shrill giggle that followed could probably be heard throughout the whole city.

 

**~ Fin ~**

 


End file.
